


Moriamur

by Conduitstreetcat, TheGreenFaerie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood, Bondage, Child Murder, Choking, Confusion, Death, Endless, Gothic poetic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knives, Love, M/M, Murder, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Torture, Urban noir, WARNINGS:, Whipping, hypnotherapy, it's not all misery we promise, mormor, sandman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 111,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22684390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conduitstreetcat/pseuds/Conduitstreetcat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenFaerie/pseuds/TheGreenFaerie
Summary: Sebastian Moran has been kicked out of the SAS and things have only gone downhill from there.He keeps getting hallucinations, of a man in a black suit - in the desert, in a hotel, in a club - and they're getting worse.Working for low-class London gangsters, it's quite possible that tonight he's reached the low point of his career.Really, it would be doing everyone a favour if he just... ceased to exist.When you've courted death your whole life, how do you finally embrace him?"Epic. Dark foreboding and violent, yet gorgeously lush and flowery in its prose. This is a story of the two ungodly men of earth who find each other and their deity filled journey to the ends of their destiny which is only their beginning. God, I loved this story.Add to that an amazing playlist full of gorgeous moody orchestrations counterbalanced against dark hard driving beats. Music that sinks into your psyche and sets the tone much of its chapters." - InnerSpectrumA growing playlist for this work can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4ReChZa2hNq7hGrYheFKLj?si=0Ld2a8tqQ4GdL6Arswslyg
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 72
Kudos: 31
Collections: FaerieCat Mormor





	1. A Man Is Known by His Words and Deeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stars fade like memory the instant before dawn. Low in the east, the sun appears golden as an opening eye. That which can be named must exist. That which is named can be written. That which is written shall be remembered. That which is remembered lives.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, Chapter XV. Translation Normandi Ellis.

I get up. It's only seven PM, but it's dark, rain tapping against the black window.

My head throbs from the drink I had this morning, the curtains closed against the grey daylight, beer after beer slooshing down my throat, with a few chasers of cheap whisky, until the world was blurry enough for me to sleep.

I take a shower to wake up, get dressed in clothes that really need a wash. I'll do a load tomorrow. I'll just put my underpants on inside out for now.

I have a coffee and some toast, then head to the off-licence for beer and a ready meal, put both in the fridge.

No drinking before work. It's my rule. I've let so many rules slide, but I know that if I let that one go, it will be the end. I'll have one beer before a job, then two, three... and the time will come when I make a mistake, and that will be it. So no matter how my parched throat longs for the cool fizzy liquid - I'll have a 7-up and another coffee instead.

Tonight's job should be simple enough. Hotel room, in and out before you know it, home before four, asleep before the sunrise.

Do laundry and hit the gym tomorrow.

Except there's something.

I feel it as I enter the room. It's pitch black, but there's - _something_ wrong. I stand still in the darkness, beside the door, barely breathing, not moving a muscle. As my eyes get used to the dark, I see it.

Two eyes. Looking at me from the bed. Blinking occasionally.

The eyes are on the wrong side - the big shape is on the far side of the bed -

Shit. There's someone else here. In the bed. Awake. Looking at me.

Not saying anything so far.

Not screaming. Not challenging.

There's something else wrong with the eyes. No, not the eyes - the rest. The body.

The bulk of Donner is clear against the background of the room, but there is no bulk for the eyes.

The body.

Too small.

A child.

Oh for fuck's sake.

A fucking _child_.

I’d heard the rumours, but -

Fuck. Disgusting fucker.

What do I do?

_What you came here to do, Sebastian._

But - the child -

_It's seen you._

_Fuck._

_Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!_

_The night is inky black, and the air of violence is nearly palpable - it hangs over the city like a heavy shroud._

_A cat shrieks._

_A bottle breaks._

_A body falls into the dirty river._

_*splash*_

_Dark muttering... filthy laughter..._

_Piercing eyes turn and look at me from the shadows, but this kind of man comes no further._

_He seems to know to keep his distance._

_I move on..._

_Wandering through the streets, clubs, alleys..._

_occasionally I engage with a stranger -_

_words._

_a fleeting kiss._

_a bloody fight._

_a fuck._

_and then they're gone._

_and always, always I return to my flat alone._

_Tonight will be no different - I watch the man who attacked me with a knife stumble away, dark wetness blooming through his white shirt like a flower._

_I stare up at the full moon, close my eyes briefly... and then I keep moving through the city..._

_Restless._

_Hungry._

_Tonight I want - more._

_I slip into a side street, feeling black threads pulling me forward..._

_the promise of violence beckons._

My stomach closes itself up.

No feelings. Only the mission.

_Except this is hardly a mission, is it._

No thoughts either. At least not irrelevant ones.

I put a finger to my lips, wink at the kid, sneak closer. It’s still staring at me, wide-eyed.

It’s a girl, about ten.

I keep the finger on my lips as I loom over her. Then I reach down my hand, stroke her brow, grab her hair and her chin and break her neck.

She doesn’t make a sound, but she shudders, and Donner wakes up.

“What -“ he grumbles, starts turning over.

I am slow. For too long of a moment, I am staring at the dead eyes, and I respond a second too late.

He starts shouting and pushes himself out of the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. I need to shut him up.

I rush around the bed and plunge my knife in his throat, cutting off his scream but covering myself, the bed, the curtains, the floor, and him in blood. I’m always surprised at the sheer _amount_ of blood people have.

He goes quiet.

I check - he’s dead.

And I’m filthy. I wear black, but my face and hair are covered in blood.

I don’t look at the little body on the bed as I walk around to get to the bathroom. I keep my ears peeled for any sounds of alarm, but it seems I was lucky - no one heard him, or no one cared enough to leave their warm bed.

I take off my gloves and wash my face and hair, clean the worst of the blood off my clothes and dry them with the hairdryer.

As I look in the mirror in the unforgiving light I see a grey face that looks like no one I know. Lines around the eyes, with the red veins and puffiness of the heavy drinker. Sallow cheeks; a stubble that says tramp rather than designer, a mouth that’s forgotten how to smile. And worst of all, the eyes. There is no colour or expression to them. They look - dull. Lifeless.

As I look away I see a glimpse of movement - what - I look back at the mirror and see a pale man in a black suit walk past the bed -

I flash round and run into the room -

There’s no one there.

Of course there’s no one there.

I shake my head, rub my forehead.

PTSD they called it.

Hallucinating not uncommon.

I’d seen the same man in Afghanistan, in Eritrea, in Iraq. Always out of the corner of my eye, in a scope, in a mirror.

I need a drink.

_I have a network of employees and contractors throughout the world - men and women in black, emerging from the shadows and then melting away as if they never were. But from the very beginning, I've been hands-on - I like to drop by on sites where something out of the ordinary is happening - or in this case has happened._

_I slip into the bedroom, unnoticed by the large man covered in blood._

_Two bodies on the bed. One child._

_My gaze sweeps over them coolly. Things so rarely surprise me... And even in horrific circumstances, death carries beauty._

_I see the spirit of the child watching me with huge eyes, and I point to the door. She hesitates, then walks cautiously to where I’ve gestured. When she looks back, I cross my eyes and nod. She smiles furtively, and then she’s gone._

_I feel another set of eyes on me, and I slip away. I’ve seen that man before... the muscular one with the cold blue eyes._

_This is not the time to engage..._

_Not yet._

_But one day... we will have a conversation._

_I walk out into the darkness, breathe in the night air. The man is gifted at what he does and I feel enlivened._

_Slowly I wind through the streets, these streets that I’ve walked countless times. I pass by people who avoid me, eye me suspiciously, ignore me, attempt to interact with me, or attack me. Bodies fall, and stars burn. It’s the man’s eyes I’m thinking of when I return to my flat. I close the door behind me, not bothering to lock it, and mount the stairs to my bedroom. When I surrender to sleep, it is dreamless._

I leave the hotel unnoticed, head back home. The ready meal sits next to my beers, but I can’t stomach even the idea of food.

I take the bottle of whisky, put it to my mouth, let the liquid flow in.

It hits, on an almost empty stomach, but instead of anaesthetizing me it makes me retch. I get out two beers to dampen the queasiness, head to the living room, drop onto a pile of clothes on the sofa, lean my head back, close my eyes.

Bad decision. When you close your eyes you can’t control what you see.

I grab the remote, turn on the telly, flick through the channels. Some nature documentary about brightly coloured birds. Fine. They’re pretty to look at. So I don’t close my eyes.

I don’t think the beer and whisky are doing it tonight.

The birds have made way for jellyfish, which undulate in a way that’s making me sick.

I roll a joint, but after only a few puffs the room tilts swiftly to the right and I only just make the bathroom before I’m violently sick.

I’m sitting on my knees, hugging the porcelain, drooling into the pan, wondering if there would have been any way my life could have turned out differently.

_Morning light streams in through the edges of the blinds. I blink, and think back to the yesterday - something is tugging on my memory. I give up trying to recall and pad to my office, rubbing my eyes. I scroll through the security camera footage from last night, and see myself getting out of bed shortly before midnight. And then the footage turns to static._

_As usual._

_Every night I go to bed, and then wake up and go for a walk. My memory of these nightly walks is always hazy. I’ve seen specialists, and they all diagnose me with somnambulism, and then give me useless treatment protocols. They never make a difference, even when I’ve had my security personnel strap me to the bed. The security cameras always strangely go blank. Security would try to stop me at the door and be told to piss off... apparently with enough authority that they listened, despite my previous instructions. No one appears to be tenacious enough to stand up to me when I’m sleepwalking... what do they see? Unfortunately there is no security footage to show me... and they seem too terrified to tell me._

_So I’ve given up trying to stop myself. I just go on walks and I have no idea where I end up or what I do._

_I open up my darknet messaging forum, and monitor the threads of my web. Everything appears to be normal, as much as a global criminal network can be. In other words, there is sweet sweet chaos unfolding, and I am the one who directs it - like the conductor of an orchestra, theatrically waving his baton... gesticulating like a mad genius, while beautiful throbbing music unleashes into the world._

_My music is a dark, majestic symphony indeed... and I carefully, meticulously check each instrument, down to the last string, bow, reed and mallet. I assess each note, and make adjustments as needed. I communicate with the players, coaching them to do as I require, and replace them if they fail to live up to my expectations. And finally I listen to the whole orchestra as one vibrant entity, marvelling at the gorgeousness that pours out._

_By the time I’m done, it’s late afternoon. I glance at the time. I have to meet with a potential contractor - not as myself, of course. He’ll be bringing his security; I’ll be bringing mine - they’ll be picking me up in an hour and taking me to a seedy bar. It pays to have contacts at all levels of the operation, from the dregs to the aristocracy, from common prostitutes to government officials, secret agents, and royal aides. I like to assess people myself to determine their measure._

_The whores have the most character by far._

_Getting involved in the front lines keeps me from getting bored from sitting in my flat all day. I’m always hopeful that something will happen that will pique my curiosity, keep my interest. Something. Anything. And by the end of the day, I’m generally disappointed._

_I wander to my cupboard. Tonight I’m playing Riley Lord, a middle-man for a crime syndicate. Not a grunt, but will still get his hands dirty if needed._

_I throw on a black turtleneck, black trousers, black leather coat. I look like I’ve wandered off the set of The Matrix. I grin at my reflection, amused. It will do._

_I send a quick text to my security, and head down to the living room._

I do sleep a bit, troubled, keeping waking up because I'm too hot or too cold or because of nightmares I don't want to contemplate too much.

At eleven I'm woken by Anthrax's _Refuse to Be Denied_. It's funny how even the best songs get detestable when they wake you up.

I pick up my phone, mumble "Yeah."

"Hey Seb, it's Geoff. Did I wake you?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry 'bout that, I'll keep it short. Good job last night with Donner. Was it you killed the kid?"

I keep the flinch from my voice. "Yeah."

"Great move, man. You know how the cops hated Donner, they're leaking that he fucked the kid and then killed her. Makes him look even more despicable than he is, fucking nonce. Anyway, the boss is happy. Well done.

So - I know you aren't on tonight, right? Miran has come down with some vomiting bug, so Rachid asked for you to come out with us. Simple bodyguard job; he's meeting some paddy for a potential gun trade. We pick him up at six thirty with the blue car, drive him to..." his voice goes muffled as he is looking for something - "the Ballroom in Dalston, you know the one that Mehmet took over two years ago?"

"Yeah."

"Great. See you tonight then. Sorry for waking you. Ciao!"

I drag myself to the shower - I'm still wearing my blood-soaked clothes, stiffened and smelling sickly. I take everything off and chuck it straight in the washing machine.

The shower wakes me up a little; I make some toast and coffee and sit at the kitchen table.

It's not the first time you killed a kid, Seb.

No.

You had to.

Yes.

She'd seen you.

Yes.

I gather clothes from the bedroom floor, stuff them in the washing machine, turn it on. Head back to the kitchen for more coffee.

There was the shooting in Herat, remember? You felt quite bad after that, but you were alright after a while.

That was collateral.

What about that boy in Basra. He'd seen you, you killed him.

He’d seen me and the rest of my patrol. We were on a mission.

What mission was I on yesterday? To eliminate a waste of space, sure. But I could have done that without killing her. She was in shock – what would she have been able to say? A man in black clothes killed Donner. He was white. He had a beard. Like the police are going to look very hard.

I rest my head in my hands. I'm loath to touch them. They can still feel the _crack_ from when the neck broke, way too little pressure from my hands.

A phrase from Frank Miller’s Sin City comes to my mind.

An old man dies, a little girl lives. Fair trade.

I wonder what she could have grown up to.

Don’t. Your killing yourself over this won’t make it better.

Did she have dreams? Did she have a future that she could have gone to, after she’d got out of whatever shit she was involved in, or did I do her a favour in ending her suffering?

Yeah! You must have done. You know the kind of future kids like that end up in.

But she doesn’t have a _chance_ now, does she? No way of breaking the mould and escaping. Just a small grave, a line in the newspaper of how the monster Donner abused her, a focus for the indignant public to shake their heads at at breakfast – country going to the dogs, isn’t it, Mary, pass me the salt.

There is absolutely no point in this…

There isn’t, no. Like there is no point to me.

…

Got no reply there, do you? I used to be a tool to be used – I didn’t always agree with what I was used for, but overall I was doing a job. And I enjoyed it, all things considered.

I’m still a tool, but I don’t enjoy it, and my ‘mission’ is making Lenny Horace richer, which is an even bigger crock of shite than Queen and Country.

I look at my gun. It would be simple. Short. Easy. Save both England and myself a load of misery.

I see my nan's face, last time I went to see her, her piercing blue eyes, always full of laughter, looking sad. "Where did I go wrong, Sebastian?"

I didn't know if she meant my dad, her son, or me. Both utter wastes of space in different ways. My dad, the pompous twat, bullying everyone who is below him, which means everyone except his buddies in the House of Lords and maybe Her Majesty the Queen, but certainly includes his overindulgent wife and his grand disappointment of a son, turned gay by his wife's mollycoddling, who ruined his future by dropping out of Oxford to go lie in the mud and blow stuff up.

Me, thrown out of the only place I ever fit in, refusing to let daddy get the 'dishonourable' removed from the discharge to salvage the Moran name, reduced to shooting people for low-level London gangsters.

Nan didn't know that last bit, of course - but she could see something was wrong, even though I went to see her when I just got back, still tanned, still looking reasonable.

She'd got old since I last saw her. She's ninety - she's not going to be around forever.

I should go see her again. Clean up a little, put on a smile.

When she's gone then -

I look at the gun again, sigh, put it away.

_I arrive at the seedy bar, taking in my surroundings through my sunglasses. My security follows as I head towards a private room in the back._

_The man I’m meeting - Rachid - is already there. Tall men stand around next to the table he sits at, looking like’s holding court._

_Oh no, honey... There’s only *one* queen present in this dilapidated watering hole._

_And my men are bigger than yours._

_But that being said, the one on the right looks like he could inflict some serious damage. Those cold blue eyes... I can see some potential for serious violence in them, waiting to break free._

_I have a sense for these things... I have always been able to read people within a moment of meeting them - some are harder nuts to crack, and take several minutes._

_But I can see this gentleman is hell itself waiting to be unleashed._

_Unlike Rachid, who merely *thinks* he is. He stares at me with a smug smile, and arches an eyebrow._

_God, I’m fucking bored already. I sigh as I sit down at the table._

_I slide my sunglasses into my pocket, and lay my palms flat on the table._

_“Yer openin’ offer is a fuckin’ insult and well yeh know it, Mr Rachid,” I say in a Northern Irish drawl. “I’m only meeting yeh as a courtesy to yer associate. *So*. Care to make me a better offer, darlin’? Or shall I take my guns to yer competitor? Your call...” I tilt my head, and smile at him cockily._

Geoff and I are standing behind Rachid, looking like the hired muscle are supposed to look - stone-faced and dumb. It's not an act in Geoff's case.

I don't know why I get so tired of him - I've served with worse guys. But he does love to hear himself talk...

Fortunately there's no talking when on the job. Just standing there and looking scary.

The Paddy walks in, accompanied by two guys of his own. I know one - met him before accompanying some Spanish guy. I glance at the Paddy as he walks in, see his pale face -

my knees go weak. My knees never go weak. My knees don't know the meaning of the word weak. It's only with the utmost effort I keep standing.

The Paddy - he's -

\- it's the guy I saw in the mirror last night. Saw all those times before. He's not wearing a suit, but -

his image is engraved in my mind. I could never not recognize him. Those black eyes. The shape of his nose, his brow. His mouth.

I try not to stare at him. He glances at me, and it's like I see recognition - but then he's chatting with Rachid, and I mentally shake my head.

Fuck.

It's getting worse. Now I am hallucinating the man onto real people as well. He's speaking, a Northern Irish accent that grates at the back of my head - I want to grab him, tell him to stop it, it's wrong -

What the _fuck_ , Sebastian?!

I'm worse than I thought. I'm deteriorating. Will be a gibbering wreck in the corner of some mental home soon, or more likely just dead.

Stop staring at the Paddy - Lord, he said his name was, and _that_ is right -

Fuck's _sake_ Seb. Concentrate. Look at his guys. Look at the club around you. Protect your man.

_Rachid is not happy._

_Negotiations are not going to his liking._

_He wants to be the big man, win the backing of my organization, which has many ties to former IRA leaders._

_A few snipes back and forth, and I grow bored._

_I don’t actually need his business or his connections._

_I glance behind him at his men. Blue Eyes is staring at me like he’s seen a bloody ghost. What the fuck is *that*?_

_I didn’t even act threateningly yet._

_Well, whatever is going on, it’s *interesting*._

_A hell of a lot more interesting than the man sitting at this table._

_Hmm. Let’s just see what else we can glean..._

_As Rachid blusteringly tells me his organization is on its way up, more money and contacts will come down the pipeline in the future, I don’t want to miss out on this opportunity or I may regret it, wank wank... I stare at him furiously._

_“Are ye threatening me then, boy-o?” I say in a quiet voice._

_He looks stunned. “Of course not. I just said-“_

_“Yeh said I’d regret it,” I snap._

_“*No*, Mr Lord, what I meant was- what I *said* was-“ he protests. He looks wild-eyed at his security, as if they could fix this with a magic wand or a reasonable word._

_“Oh, so now yer telling me I’m too stupid to understand yer meanin’?” I say, standing up. “De *bollocks* on yeh...”_

_Rachid stares open-mouthed as I make my way towards the hallway, flanked by my security. I stop and smile at him. “Tell yer boss I don’t deal wit’ peons. Or better yet, I’ll tell him myself.”_

_Then I pull out a gun and shoot him._

The negotiations don't go well - Rachid isn't a great talker anyway, but this Paddy is showing him all corners of the verbal ring.

I'm waiting for him to start looking like someone _else_ , not the spectre of my hauntings, but no such luck. He stubbornly keeps looking and sounding wrong. I can't wait for this to be over, also because Rachid's performance is making me cringe. I have half a mind to punch him out and take over, but that's not how things work.

The Paddy gets up with some scathing words, takes out his gun, and shoots Rachid.

I see him do it. I can see his eyes thinking it, his hand moving towards his jacket, reaching inside, coming out with the gun in it, clicking off the safety, aiming it at Rachid, the finger moving on the trigger, the bullet coming out. Geoff moving next to me - way too slow, of course - the Paddy's men reaching inside their own jackets.

It all happens like in a slow-motion scene in a film. And I am observing it all.

I could have taken my gun out and shot the Paddy in time, _probably_. He's fast.

Instead I just stood here.

I'm definitely going round the bend.

One of the Paddy's men will shoot me, the other wants to take Geoff, but Geoff is faster, and will get him, or possibly the Paddy, leaving the other to shoot him.

My body moves. Geoff's gun is not completely out yet, but he's clipped the safety off. Easy enough to grasp his hand and let him shoot himself in the stomach. He falls down with a scream, his eyes large and shocked.

I turn around, but it's too late, the men will have fired by now.

Both have their guns out, pointing at me, but they've not shot yet.

The Paddy is holding up his hand, smiling at me.

And in that smile, the world converges.

_I watch the events that unfold, as though watching a play in slow motion._

_Blue Eyes is fascinating to observe - although I must admit, he surprises me._

_Almost nothing surprises me._

_I thought he would show me his propensity for violence, his speed, his killer instinct... instead I see him let me live. And shoot his own associate. To protect me._

_Very. Interesting._

_My men seem to really want to kill him... but they don’t dare ignore my order._

_“Nice moves... I *love* a man who’s dexterous with a gun,” I say in a soft purr, looking him up and down._

_He’s staring at me in awe. People don’t usually look at me like that... This is rather enjoyable. But I got what I needed, a distraction for the evening - and now it’s time to go._

_“See you around, cowboy,” I murmur with a predatory smile._

_Then I snap my fingers, and we leave through the hallway and the back exit._

_The look in his eyes was star-struck and bereft, and I feel almost bad about leaving. But what the fuck am I going to do, take him home?_

_Oh._

_I almost turn back down the hall then, but -_

_But -_

_“Sir?”_

_My reverie is interrupted by one of my men._

_“What?” I snap._

_Then I realize I’m standing at the door, not moving._

_“Well? Open it,” I say scathingly._

_He does, and steps through - I follow, and we walk silently to the car. It’s raining. Suddenly everything seems bleak again._

_A dark figure appears at the door, stares after the car, and lights up a cigarette. I watch him through the tinted window._

_It wouldn’t hurt to know his name, I think. I send a text to the man whose associate I killed._

_‘What’s the name of the new bodyguard who accompanied Rachid? – RL’_

_The reply comes a moment later._

_‘Sebastian Moran. Deal concluded? Haven’t heard from Rachid.’_

_‘Rachid is dead. Original deal Y/N’_

_Pause._

_‘Y. Thank you, Mr Lord’_

_I pocket my mobile, and stare at the weeping sky, now dark._

_*Sebastian Moran*. May have use for him some day. I’ll open a file tonight._

As I walk to the car, the cigarette and the outside air combine to clear my head.

It's not a welcome sensation.

What. The. _Fuck_ , Moran.

I drive off, the events of the evening playing before my eyes, and I watch them in shock as I navigate the London traffic.

I just stood there.

Let him shoot Rachid.

And then - I _shot_ Geoff.

What the _fuck_ was I thinking!?

I wasn't. I wasn't thinking at all. I just stood there and watched and moved and my brain didn't have a say in any of it.

 _Why??_ Just - _why?_ You don't like your job, but it's your _job_. You shoot people. You should have shot the Paddy and hope you and Geoff got his guys before they got you.

That's the thing, isn't it. The Paddy. He looks like the hallucinations and you lost it. What the _fuck_ , Moran. You've completely gone off your trolley. Trolley nowhere to be seen. Left well and truly stranded.

And well and truly fucked. You could have worked your way up with Horace. But he liked Rachid. Rachid is dead, as is Geoff, and you and the Paddy and his men walked off. You didn't just shoot yourself in the foot, you followed it up by shooting the other foot and both kneecaps for good measure.

I'm at a crossroads. I go left, towards the ring road. I can't go home. They'll send someone round.

Where am I going to go? Who's going to hire a hired gun who's proved he can't be trusted? Who goes doolally when he sees a pale guy in black and kills his own mates?

I have to resist the urge to bash my head on the steering wheel.

I drive out of town, drive aimlessly through country lanes, stop at a lay-by, get out, look over a black canal.

Take stock.

I should have brought a drink.

Sucks to be you, soldier. Take stock.

I'm obviously going mental. I already was a bit in the army, but after leaving it - well, you hear it all the time, don't you, especially from long-term career soldiers. Can't hack civilian life. Kill their family, kill strangers, kill themselves.

I’m seeing things. Have been seeing things for a while – well, thing, really. The man in the black suit, so out of place in the desert, between the dusty rubble, always pale and clean where everyone was sunburnt and sandstained.

So now I’m here and I’m seeing him again, except more. I saw him last night, and then tonight I had an especially long – episode, I think they call it, projecting him onto the Paddy, and then doing stuff that went against all common sense.

It’s clear I’m losing it.

I can wait for it to get worse, or –

I look at my gun again.

Sorry, Nan. You don’t want to read in the paper that I shot up a church, or something. Best to just have a small, private family funeral. Poor Sebastian, he couldn’t deal with life outside the army. Let dad whitewash my dismissal after all, so I can be a not too embarrassing footnote in the family chronicles.

I sigh.

I’ll go into town and pour myself full of drink, get proper drunk on expensive whisky, until there are no more sharp edges on anything.

Even a bullet.

_I can’t help myself - I stay up later than planned to research the man from the bar._

_Sebastian Moran._

_Sebastian Moran._

_(Stop it, Jim...)_

_Why? My hungering for knowledge is what makes me the criminal mastermind I am._

_And I am *not* in the habit of leaving curious stones unturned..._

_especially hot, blue-eyed, clearly ex-military -_

_(...)_

_...stones._

_(You’re mixing metaphors. And you’re clearly horny.)_

_Well, what if I am. How long has it been-_

_(Six months. What of it.)_

_*Six months*. No wonder a pretty assassin would turn my head._

_(Well then - track him, and either show up at one of his seedy dive bars as Riley, or - send a car for him. He’ll come. You know he’ll come.)_

_Not the point._

_(Then why are you still thinking about this. Go to sleep.)_

_I get up from my desk, feeling disgruntled - I didn’t finish my work, which is bothersome. But sometimes I feel such a compulsion to go to bed, and if I don’t, I fall asleep where I am, sleeping all night in a chair or on the floor._

_And then the next day comes, and I’m in the foulest mood imaginable..._

_So I force myself to go to bed, even though I’d much prefer to be completing my file on Moran. My eyes close before my head lands on the pillow._

_The black threads beckon me forward into the night. I know my acolytes are all across the world, acting in my name. I can see through their eyes, whenever I want._

_I can enter their bodies, anytime I desire._

_But here in the great city where I reside, radiating the stories of millennia, I move from street to street, person to person... death to death._

_I see a man yell at his wife and then turn and trip over her cat and fall down the stairs *spectacularly*. The cat’s expression is so smug and satisfied, I can’t help but sit by the body with the surprised face, and laugh maniacally behind my hand._

_“Frank?” The wife calls, with fear in her voice. Well, of course - she heard the dull thuds on the stairs, then the final thump - followed by wild muffled laughter._

_I put my finger over my lips and give a conspiratorial grin to the cat, who stares at me indignantly and swishes his tail._

_I snort, and slip out the door._

_Feeling unusually light of heart, I stroll out into the night. Then suddenly there’s a sharp pain under my rib - as if I’m being *hooked* by something._

_I can’t remember when the last time was this happened. But it’s not unfamiliar._

_Somehow I know to hurry._

_I melt into the night, and by the time I arrive where I’m pulled to, the man contemplating suicide is already there._

_Sitting by a canal._

_A half-empty bottle sitting next to him._

_A gun in his lap._

_Radiating from him is such deep pain and sorrow, such brokenness. Stunned, I feel it reverberating through me. Not that it matters, in the end - however unusual it is to be affected by someone’s feelings who is about to die._

_But the thing is, the incident with the cat has jarred me out of my usual solemnity._

_And I’ve had enough of pain and sorrow and brokenness._

_I feel myself longing for something - for myself. Just for tonight, I want something *more*._

_I scoop up a handful of stones, and from behind a copse of trees, I throw a stone so that it bounces off the man’s head before it lands into the cold, dark water. The splash and the angry curse strike me as uproariously funny._

_And for the second time that night, I’m pressing my hand against my mouth to muffle laughter that is wild and takes my breath away._

I sit by the canal - the same, or a different one, who cares, just water running to the sea in an endless cycle. It's probably a metaphor for something or other. Very appropriate.

I'd gone into town but I couldn't stand being surrounded by people. I had a few expensive whiskies in some pub but this guy said something to me and I nearly decked him. Went to the off-licence and got two bottles of cheap whisky instead; drove out of town again.

The water is moving slowly - you're not getting to the sea at this speed, mate. But it doesn't matter to you, does it. You're not even a thing. Canal. You're just - absence of earth.

I'm getting very drunk. Soon it will be time.

I feel a _thunk_ on my head and something splashes into the water. I let out a curse and turn around and I hear muffled _laughter_ \- what the fuck - who thinks this is _funny_ -

I jump up and run to the trees and -

It's him -

It's the _man_ -

Wearing his black suit, black tie, with little skulls on it I see now, his dark eyes black in his pale face, his teeth glittering as he giggles madly at my bewildered expression.

He throws another little stone at me. It hits me in the chest. "Plonk," he giggles.

That's it. I've gone well and truly mental now. Good thing I'm about to end it.

_Oh dear. I’ve been spotted._

_I’m usually more subtle than this..._

_Now what..._

_I find myself walking towards him, grinning._

_Unexpected, but I interact with people frequently - nothing unusual there. Well. I don’t usually hit them with stones before they kill themselves, but no matter._

_He will be mine before too long... er. Before dawn? Strange - the ETA seems to be shifting. I assess the threads that are coming from him, and see that one is attached to me. I blink. Is that where the ‘hooked’ feeling came from?_

_Has this happened before? It *must* have. So why don’t I remember?_

_I saunter over to him._

_“What are we drinking?” I drawl, and scoop up the bottle. I tip it back into my mouth, then hand it back to him with a grimace. “Disgusting,” I say with a cough._

_I stare out at the black water, and skip a stone across the surface. I see him staring at me in shock._

_What? I’m doing Friendly Mysterious Stranger. *Classic*._

_I offer him a stone. “Sorry, would you like one?”_

I stare at the man, sitting on the side of the canal in his immaculate suit.

What do you do when hallucinations start to interact with you?

Or it might be a different person, and I'm just projecting the man, like I projected him on the Paddy. This guy has an English accent, much like my own.

In that case, it's probably a tramp - he's obviously crazy; and just grabbing my drink like that - though I've never known a tramp who was picky about his alcohol.

Well, the good thing about having decided to commit suicide is that it's strangely liberating - I don't need to worry about anything, like him picking up a big stone and smashing my skull in giggling, or getting some disease through sharing a bottle.

I take the proffered stone and skip it across the canal. He then does the same, skipping one more time than me. I try again, get to four. He does five. I do too. He does six. I do four again. He does seven. I look at him - surely I'm imagining this too?

I take a big swig of my whisky, lower the bottle, try to focus on his face, but it's swimming a bit.

"Who are you?"

_I shrug, and smile slyly. “Nobody, really. And you?”_

I chuckle.

"Nobody. I've met so many nobodies in my life... Is it something about me? That people don't want to be somebody who knows me?"

I sigh, take another swig.

"I'll soon be nobody too."

_There we go. Not much longer now, honey..._

_Soon the pain will be over._

_“I thought you already were nobody,” I remark, and grab the bottle from him. I take another swig, and stick my tongue out. “How do you *drink* this?”_

_He’s silent. I look him up and down._

_“Surely *some* people would want to know you... An attractive man like you...” I purr._

_When he turns to look at me, his eyes are such a striking blue, even in this gloom. I hand him the bottle back. His fingers brush against mine, and a spark of electricity lights between us._

Attractive? You think I'm attractive, even though I look like death warmed up?

I'm sorry sir, I don't know what you look like. The Man looks very attractive though. And is looking at me with definite interest in his eyes...

Fuck it, I'm dying anyway...

I lean in, see the eyes go large for a second, and then move closer...

Our lips touch –

The canal comes up and overwhelms me, draws me under in its inky blackness -

I didn't even need my gun, I think as I disappear into nothingness.

Nobody.


	2. This Day I Am with You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sing then, rejoice and bind yourself to his will. See how the seed falls from the tree and is buried. Die at once and live again. You shall grow like that sycamore, rooted in matter, bound for boundless sky. You shall be blown by wind. You shall see the storm and sing its praises. You shall lie in the fields and kiss the earth. Raise your arms. You shall see the fury and power of him and change forever.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Nekhet, Chapter XV. Translation Normandi Ellis. Slight adaptation Conduitstreetcat.

I wake up with my head feeling like it's been crushed between two bowling balls. My tongue has that special taste and consistency that comes from the cheapest whisky the corner shop has on offer. I open my eyes - it takes a moment, but I succeed. Well done. Now move to an upright position.

I lean over, move my legs out from under the duvet, put them on the floor. Shift my weight - excellent Moran, we're vertical. Astounding.

Grab my underpants from the floor, put them on, get out of the bedroom. I need a shower, I feel _filthy_.

I stare at the space outside the bedroom door.

Where is the bathroom?

What the -

Is this not my place? I _think_ it is -

I mean, it must be, right? I was in that bed? That's my bed?

Is it?

Isn't it?

I lean against the door frame, getting dizzy. Something is wrong with my head. Did I shoot it?

I touch around my head - no, it feels intact. The pain isn't localized, it's just a throbbing, which I know well - too much to drink.

But why do I feel so - confused? Why don't I know if that is my bed or not?

It _must_ be my bed, right? I mean - I could have slept in someone else's bed - but then where is my bed? I can't - remember any other bed than this -

No wait that doesn't make _sense_ \- I do remember other beds. I had a bed as a child, it was wood and big. I had a bed in Eton and in Oxford. And then in the army - I had a bed. And a field cot, and a sleeping bag. I remember those.

Right. Then after the army, I came to London - this is London, right? Yes, yes, it's definitely London. And I had -

this bed?

Or another?

It must be this. Must be. I'm just - I probably have a case of alcohol poisoning or something. Let's go find the bathroom and then have a shower and then my head will clear.

I look at the doors in the corridor. All look the same. I'll just start by going to the right.

I open the door to a room with exercise equipment and weapons. Cool. Not a bathroom, but it looks like a room I would use.

Next door – bingo. A loo, a bath and shower, shelves with towels.

I drop my underpants, use the loo, get into the shower, turn it on, let the warm water pour over my poor head. I open my mouth, rinse it out, drink some of the water, then just stand and listen to the sound of the water running over my skull.

This must be my shower, right?

I don’t know any _other_ showers.

Have I cracked my head last night, lost my memory? No, there are no lumps on my head, and I remember who I am, what my rank is – was -, where I was stationed last, why I came back to the UK…

… my psychiatric report… PTSD… could that be it? I scoffed at it, didn’t really look into it –

I wash myself with a body wash that smells nice but doesn’t jog any memories, brush my teeth, towel off, tie the towel round my waist, and move further down to the end of the corridor, down some stairs.

There’s a large living room, filled with modern and expensive furniture, some original art on the walls, picture windows with a marvellous view of the city.

On the sofa, with a laptop, earphones in –

the Man.

the Paddy.

He looks up.

_I feel eyes on me, and I sigh and look up._

_“Oh. Sleeping Beauty is awake,” I say sarcastically. “You slept long enough...”_

_I look back to my laptop, finish up a message, and fire it off. Then I lower my headphones and stare at you hard. You look like you’ve seen a ghost._

_Well. Imagine how I felt waking up to an assassin in my bed. I can imagine what we did, but have no idea how you ended up here... How did I run into you? Did I seek you out??_

_“Still here?” I mutter. “You do have a home to go to, don’t you?”_

_You mumble something and turn to leave._

_Fuck. I shouldn’t just kick him out. Maybe he can help me figure this out..._

_“Wait.” I snap. “Sit down. I have a few questions.”_

_Play nice, Jimmy. Don’t scare the skittish assassin away just yet..._

_“Sebastian, isn’t it? Relax, honey. I don’t bite.” I look at you wryly. “Scratch that. Would you like some coffee? Something to eat? You look like you’re going to faint...”_

_There. That sounded concerned enough. I get up, take you by the arm, lead you to the kitchen and seat you at the table. I open the fridge and stare at the contents, momentarily confused. When is the last time I made breakfast...?_

_“Eggs on toast, darling?” I offer._

How did I get here. With him.

Wait. Who is him? He looks like the Paddy, but his accent is Southern, and much more subtle than that grating Northern one.

Wait, who is this Paddy? I recall, but when I try to pinpoint – he’s gone.

And he looks like - the Man.

Am I hallucinating him?

Am I hallucinating this place? If so - where _am_ I?

The Paddy Man snaps if I don't have a home to go to - so this is not my home -

No - wait - I have another home. Don't I? But I can't go there - because -

Damn, I wish my head worked... some coffee maybe. I should go and get a coffee, then maybe I'll remember where I live and why I can't go there...

His voice interrupts my thoughts - questions? _You_ have questions?

I doubt I'll be of much use...

But then I'm bundled into a kitchen and offered breakfast and coffee, and that sounds great. You know my name, but I can't remember - there was something, the Paddy did have a name, that I liked -

\- _darling!?_

What happened? Did we -

\- well we must have done, why else was I in your bed -

\- but -

I can't _remember_. If only I could _remember_ a _bit_ more, like where I live, and what your name is, and what happened last night, or yesterday, or the weeks before that...

I can't let you know. You'll think I'm mental. And - I am, but I don't want you to know. You seem - you are -

\- hot.

And - you've given me a nice out. Pet names it is.

"Thank you, darling, that sounds great. And - if you have it - I would _love_ some coffee."

_I shoot you a look over the fridge door. *Darling?*_

_I don’t think so._

_I shut the door firmly, and carry eggs over to the counter. I take out a frying pan, and throw some butter into it. Then I turn up the heat._

_“What’s my name, Sebastian?” I ask patiently, expecting something snarky in response when you tell me._

_But you don’t. You just stare at me. Blankly. Stricken._

_“You really don’t know?” I say slowly. Alright. It’s certainly possible you wouldn’t have heard my name from your employer. But I mentioned it yesterday. And - did I not give it to you last night?_

_“It’s Riley. I thought maybe you sought me out after yesterday?”_

_I crack egg after egg into the pan. You’re a big boy, and you look spacey as hell. Protein and grease should hopefully be grounding to you. And oh yes, caffeine._

_As the eggs begin to sizzle, I take a mug from the shelf, then grab the coffee pot._

_“How do you take it, Sebastian?”_

_The question strikes me as a bit dirty for a moment, and I almost laugh._

_Before I realize how disturbing it is that I likely slept with you, and I don’t remember a single detail. Did my usual proclivities prevail, or... did you fuck *me*??_

_I pause, the coffee pot hovering above the mug. My heart races. My eyes narrow._

Riley.

That doesn't sound right.

Why did I call you the Paddy - there was a Paddy with a Northern Irish accent - he was - the enemy? Kind of? The - opposite side anyway -

Did you poison me? Is that why I'm so confused? Some kind of - hallucinogen? But it's all wrong - I can see everything clear as day, there's nothing weird happening, no talking teapots or melting trees, it's just that I can recall hardly anything about - anything.

Again, not true - I can recall everything about everything with perfect clarity - _until_ we get to London. After that, things are just - like a big blurry maelstrom that I can occasionally see something surfacing in before it disappears again.

If you've poisoned me and - took me here, making me think we've slept together, making me breakfast -

it must be - because you're looking for something from me? What? Information? No - why use a drug that makes me forget everything if you're after me telling you something useful. Then - you want to use me for something? Put me in a situation with people who know me, trust me, in order to trap them?

That might make sense...

You're waving your hand in front of my face. "Hello!? Earth to Sebastian! I am _not_ used to having to ask twice, sweetheart!"

"I'm sorry -" I bluster, "Miles away. What did you ask?"

"How. Do you want. Your. _Coffee_." you say, pointed.

"Oh. Sorry. Eh - black, thanks. With sugar," I add when I feel my stomach protesting at the thought of black coffee.

"Right," you narrow your eyes, and turn back to the counter.

_I hand you your coffee. You manage to bring the cup to your lips without spilling all over yourself - which is something, based on your shakiness and spacey demeanour. Christ. Am I going to need to send you for medical care??_

_I need answers first, sweetheart..._

_I check the eggs - almost done. I throw some bread in the toaster and turn back to you._

_“So. Tell me about last night, Sebastian... how did we happen to meet? Or did I find you?” I sip my own coffee and set it on the counter with a thump._

Coffee coffee blessed coffee. *Good* coffee.

And then - a question.

A _really hard_ question.

Right - _think_ , soldier. Why is he asking this?

Options: - he poisoned you and wants to verify it's taken. But - then surely this is a very _blatant_ way of checking. It's a _weird_ question, however you frame it.

Another option: - he too suffers from this amnesia thing, so - what? We were both poisoned, and then - got away to his flat, or were taken here? Or - we took something assuming it would be recreational and it ended up being dodgy?

But then - how did we end up together? There's something I _nearly_ remember about you, but every time I try to grasp it it disappears. But you were not some bloke I met in a bar. There was something else, and it has to do with me calling you Paddy...

So - are you friend or foe? Are you a fellow victim, or the bad guy?

Either way, or whatever other option I haven't thought of, I can't make up some story. If you're tricking me you'll see through it, and if you're not, there's no reason to try to fool you.

"I - I am very sorry, I can't remember," I sigh and take another sip of my coffee. "I am not sure what happened last night, but - I can't remember a thing. I wish I could," I grin at you, a half-arsed attempt at flirtation - hey. It's not every day that I find myself in a towel in the kitchen of a hot guy. Or - maybe it is, but I don't remember.

_I stare at you hard. You seem bemused by my question, and by the entire situation we find ourselves in. If you’re trying to trick me, you’re an even better actor than I am._

_And I’ve yet to find such a creature._

_“So you don’t remember *anything* about last night?” I demand._

_Fuck’s sake... the *one time* I have a lead... and it turns out to be a dead end??_

_A *hot* dead end in a towel, waiting for me to serve him breakfast…_

_who I apparently fucked already? Or who- *No*._

_Not going there._

_But... if we do have this connection, then it’s something to be exploited._

_Lightning-fast, I climb onto your lap and straddle you. My arms slide around your neck, and I gaze into your eyes as I press my pelvis against yours._

_Mmm. *Hello* to you, too..._

_“You can’t remember one teensy detail? Really, Sebastian?” I murmur, pouting. Hands curling around your shoulders, I press my lips to yours._

_Mmm. Warm._

_*Sweet*._

_I kiss you slowly. Languorously._

_(Remember why you’re doing this, Jimmy...)_

_Yesss... *in a moment*, I think in a daze._

Whoa wait what?

What - are you playing at?

Or – are you playing? Who _are_ you? We met before, I think, but then you look like someone I hallucinated all over the world, so we may not have. I woke up in your bed. We _may_ have slept together which _I_ can’t remember - do you?

If you do, you obviously liked it. You seem keen to get a repeat - or is this some kind of... game? Test? Trick?

I don’t get it and you rubbing yourself against me is _not_ helping...

Though - it can’t hurt to go along with this, can it? If it is a trick, I can’t imagine what it could do.

And it’s been too long... well, it might have been last night, for all I know, but my cock certainly thinks he’s due some attention.

I relax into the kiss. Questions can come later.

My hands curl around your arse - perfect, perky and muscular - clad in silky yoga pants, smooth and enticing –

_Your hands are on my arse... your breathing has shifted... your towel is not leaving much to the imagination..._

_I press my body against yours, ease your lips apart, slide my tongue in - you respond eagerly. Squeezing my arse. Pulling me against your cock._

_Oh no, honey. You're fucking hot and you kiss like an X-rated dream, but this is not happening._

_..._

_Not like this, anyway._

_The toaster dings, and I pull back._

_"Down, boy..." I murmur, and gracefully rise from your lap. Your hands linger on my arse, and your eyes register disappointment._

_Really - you thought it would be so easy, did you..._

_I have a few hoops for you to jump through first, darling... flaming ones made of sharp-edged metal._

_I smile slyly as I turn back to the stove._

_"Eggs are ready," I say cheerfully. I turn off the heat, slide the eggs onto plates. Throw toast next to them._

_Suddenly there are hands sliding down my arms, then pulling me around. I look up at you, and your flirtatious smile._

_*Jesus, you're pretty* - it's the last thing I think, before you lift me up the counter and start kissing me heatedly._

_God, and I thought your kissing was hot before..._

_Fuck’s sake, Jimmy - put a stop to this, I think dimly. I'm aware of my legs circling your waist as you press against me._

Fuck it. Fuck first, ask questions later; has always been my motto.

Your arms and legs wrap around me, your tongue demands access to my mouth.

The bedroom is nearby and probably a better environment - I lift you off the counter and walk to the stairs, carry you up.

“Eggs,” you mumble onto my lips.

“I love them cold,” I reply, walk through the bedroom door, lay you onto the bed, lean over you.

Your eyes are on fire.

_*This isn't happening*, I think as I'm being kissed and carried to the bedroom..._

_This is *not happening*, I think as I'm being lain on the bed._

_Your lips are on me, your hands are on me, *ohh fuck* you feel so good..._

_*Jesus Christ*... take control of the situation, Moriarty..._

_I grab your shoulders and flip you over so you're under me._

_And yes, I'm well aware that you *let* me... if your bulging muscles weren't a dead giveaway, your predatory smirk would make that *very* clear..._

_I place my hands on either side of your head, and glare down at you._

_"As a rule, I do not make breakfast for pushy assassins I find in my bed..." I say loftily._

_"Sorry... I'll make it next time," you murmur, grinning at me._

_I stare at you, and your eyebrow lifts playfully._

_"Think you're charming, don't you..." I growl._

_I crush my lips to yours, and grind my cock against your towel, making you moan._

_Fuck... that was a *beautiful* sound._

_"Mmm. What other sounds can I get you to make, Sebastian Moran?" I drawl, and get off you._

_Your hands reach for me, and I slap them away._

_"My way..." I purr. "Face the headboard, darling."_

_"Face the-?" you smile, seeming to enjoy my sudden bossiness._

_How long before I wipe that smile from your face?_

_"Sebastian. If I have to repeat myself once more, you will find yourself on your arse on the pavement," I say coolly. "Now *fucking* kneel, darling. And face the headboard like a well-behaved assassin..."_

How do you know I’m an assassin? You must know quite a bit more about me than vice versa... you knew my name as well. I’ll have to try to work out who you are and what I’m doing here... after...

That voice… those intense eyes... what would you do to me, given the chance?

I grin at you, get on my knees with my back to you, rip off the towel, throw it on the floor, and lean my hands on the headboard.

_My eyes widen as you whip off the towel with all the confidence of a porn star, and brace yourself against the headboard._

_Oh._

_God._

_Now there's an image that I'll never forget..._

_I slowly move towards you, staring at your muscular form in a submissive position._

_I pull open the drawer of my bedside table, not taking my eyes off you. With a scrape of steel buckles, I lift out a pair of leather cuffs._

_"Know what can happen when you go to bed with strangers, Sebastian?" I say in a rough, silky voice._

_You grow alert, and Then. You. Shiver._

_A smile spreads across my face._

_Oh. *Very* good, darling..._

_"*Some* strangers..." I purr. "...aren't satisfied with predictable sex... It can be *so* pedestrian, no...?"_

_I move towards you, and press myself against your back. I rest my chin on your shoulder._

_"I don't know what happened last night, and I don't care..."_

_A flash of anger burns through me. I *do* care._

_*Very much so.*_

_"Such a funny little situation we find ourselves in, darling. Not knowing what transpired, waking up strangers..." I say in a friendly voice. I caress your hair, and sniff your neck, making you shiver. Your eyes close, and your lips part._

_“But now..." I whisper. "*Now* we get to the truth of the matter, Sebastian."_

_I wrap one leather cuff around your wrist, and buckle it firmly. Then I fasten the O-ring to a steel ring mounted to the headboard._

_"Who I am..."_

_Your breath quickens._

_I repeat my actions with your other hand._

_"Who you are."_

_I test the cuffs, listening to them clank against the wood._

_Satisfied that my quarry is secured, I wrap my arms around your waist._

_"Oh, Sebastian... I was *so* disgruntled when I woke up. But things are looking up, darling."_

_I sigh with pleasure, and run my fingertips along your face._

_"Look at me, Sebastian..." I order, and you do. Your eyes widen as you see how close my face is, and your pupils dilate. I smile and stroke your cheek._

_"You and I are going to get to know each other a little better. And when we're done... then we'll know what to do with you, won't we..." I say in a conspiratorial voice, then I giggle - I can't help it. A plaything just appears in my bed like a gift from heaven?_

_Well. The only heaven that would have me..._

_I picture myself falling from the clouds like a flaming star, laughing as I tumble down towards a kingdom of darkness._

_I dig my fingers into your jaw. "Ready, darling?" I purr. Not waiting for an answer, I pull your face towards mine into a searing kiss._

Oh - _cuffs_...

In your bedside table... I say. My kind of man...

You say you don't remember what happened last night - however, it's clear that you do remember _some_ things about me.

… yes Seb, let's have a _nice_ chat about that, _after_ the unpredictable sex.

I'm cuffed to a headboard and my cock shivers at this - I do love being the submissive partner, but it's a rare treat when you're tall and muscular - people tend to pick you as the dominant party. Which is fun, sure, but this... is exceptional indeed, the way you just take control, so naturally, so calm and confident, like you _know_ that I will go along with it... which kind of belies your words claiming that you don't remember what we did last night. Would you be so cool about this if it was the first time?

A voice in the back of my head whispers _yes, yes he would... because no one would, could ever say no to him..._

But the voice is kind of lost when you stroke my face, dig your fingers in, pull me into a kiss - so possessive, so controlling, so _hot_...

I groan into your mouth, my fingers grasping the headboard, my cock twitching in eagerness.

I am perfectly safe - I could break those rings off the headboard and overwhelm you in a second, no problem - but -

I don't really care.

_I nip your bottom lip as I pull away._

_Then I stand next to you so you can see me strip. I pull off my t-shirt and yoga pants, leaving on my boxer briefs. You stare up at me hungrily as I cup my cock through the material, fondling it._

_"You want this, Sebastian?" I ask, all innocence._

_"Fuck - yes..." you breathe._

_"Too bad," I say in a bored voice. "You'll have my cock in that beautiful arse when and only when you've earned it..."_

_"How do I - earn it?" you say urgently._

_I simply smile, and hop off the bed. I head to my cupboard and emerge with a whip. You watch me closely with intrigue glowing in your eyes._

_"Oh, I'm sure you've fooled around with this type of thing before, Sebastian... played the fun little games people like to play when they want to walk on the wild side..." I say scathingly as I advance towards you. "Forget all that. You left that behind when you walked through these doors - *now* you're in the territory where the maps leave off, before you sail off the end of the world."_

_I step onto the bed, and lean over your shoulder. "Before you've devoured by terrible monsters..." I whisper. You lean your head back and rest it against mine, taking me by surprise._

_I step back quickly and lash against your upper back, making you grunt in surprise. I stare at the red welt rising on your skin._

_"So the journey begins..." I murmur, and lash the other side hard._

You lean over me and I feel the sudden urge to be close to you. Lean my head back - make contact for one second -

And then you're off, and a searing pain bites into my shoulder.

I grit my teeth, and another lash bites my back, making me gasp.

We definitely haven't done _this_ before. I would have noticed the weals in the shower.

Another fiery line down my back. I hiss. Another.

So - how do you know that I – _crack – gasp -_

You whip like you mean it. I've played around before, sure, but never - _crack_ \- this - hard...

How do you know I can stand this?

You didn't mention a safeword or anything -

 _Fuck_ , this hurts - and _fuck_ it's _good_...

How do you know I like this? I didn't even know -

Or - I realize with a shock that - you don't _care_. Which is - even _hotter_. You've decided you're going to whip me _hard_ , so that's what you're going to do. My enjoyment doesn't matter - I'm just here for your entertainment.

I groan as lash after lash lands against my back, my arse, my thighs... oh _god_.

My cock is rock hard as I'm melting into the pain.

_With pleasure I lash you hard. Watching beautiful red welts cover your body. Listening to the sounds flying through the room..._

_the whip cutting through the air..._

_cracking against your skin..._

_the grunts on impact..._

_shifting into moans as the fiery kiss of the whip makes your body come alive..._

_because that's what's happening, isn't it, Sebastian...?_

_You're feeling something you've never felt before?_

_I smile as you let out a loud groan._

_This started out being a mix of taking advantage of the surprise plaything in my bed... and harsh punishment for even the possibility of touching me last night... possibly even *taking* me?_

_In a fury, I whip across existing lines, making you cry out. Blood appears on your skin._

_You only sound more excited, more ecstatic..._

_However this began, it's shifted into something else. You're not like the rest._

_I wasn't totally sure if I would fuck you when I started. Now I look down in surprise at my cock, hard and straining - because of this beautiful, muscled body surrendering to me, racked with pleasurepain, moaning, shouting, howling..._

_Well, if I fuck you - that will make it *very* clear who's in charge here._

_I lean against your back, making you cry out at the friction over your freshly whipped skin._

_I look down over your shoulder and I take in the sight of your majestic cock, hard and quivering against your abdomen. Mmm. Beautiful..._

_I slide my hands around your hips, and slowly stroke your hard cock._

_"Think you've earned it yet, honey?" I whisper into your ear, making you shiver._

I have never experienced anything like this.

I've engaged in recreational pain before - people spanking or whipping me - but that was almost a caress, only a slight sting to it.

This - this is on a whole other level, there is nothing caressing about it, it's fiery agony with every lash and the lashes just keep coming, relentlessly, covering my entire body, and then doubling up - I'm sure you're drawing blood.

And I'm groaning, panting, shivering under the whip, but at no point am I thinking of asking you to stop, or to evade, or to break loose. It would be unthinkable. You want this. You want me to suffer. And so I do.

The groans turn to howls, then cries as I can feel you breaking skin - I can't help it, I could suppress the pain, be stoic about it, but that would be wrong, dishonest - the pain is there, it's there on purpose, you share it with me, and in return, I share it with you.

It's a beautiful, horrific dance. And I realize with every lash that lands, that makes me tremble and cry out, that I _want_ it, I _want_ the next one, I _want_ this pain, feeling that I am nothing, just an object for you to play with, releasing into the scalding rhythm of the whipping, letting go of my self, and finding deliverance...

I don't know how long this lasts. Hours, maybe minutes.

I'm dimly aware of the lashes stopping, though the pain throbs on.

And then there is you. On my back, igniting the welts. Unguarded, I cry out.

Your hand touches my cock, nearly making me jump with the intensity of the sensation.

Your whisper in my ear. My brain assembling in a panic through the blessed dark fog it was in, desperate to give the right answer, the answer that you want, the answer that pleases you -

"I - hope so... Sir," is all I manage.

_A smile slowly spreads across my face. Such an apropos honorific, I didn't even have to tell you - but then you're a military man._

_"*Hope* so?" I ask sweetly. "Not good enough..."_

_I pull away from you, and oh, you make a distressed sound - god. Already so attached?_

_Where did you *come* from, darling??_

_I open the drawer of my bedside table, and pull out a knife with a metallic scrape._

_"Not *nearly* good enough... but there's hope for you yet, Sebastian... "_

_I press the tip of the knife against your neck, just under your jaw._

_You grow still. And very, very alert._

_But not afraid. I press my lips next to the knife._

_"You're so intriguing, darling... makes me want to *taste* you..." The words drip from my lips onto your neck like warm honey._

_I feel a thrum of excitement in your pulse, a tremor through your muscles... and the motion of your head lifting up slightly - granting me greater access._

_"Oh you *reckless* beautiful thing..." I whisper, feeling my own excitement growing._

_I'm usually cold as stone. You make my body feel like dancing flames..._

_I move the knife away a safe distance from the artery, and press it into your flesh. A bead of crimson blood appears, followed by a thin rivulet. I press my tongue against it, swallow._

_"You taste like a lifetime of danger..." I say slowly. "An ocean of suffering and pain... I want to dive into you... drink deep of you..."_

_I'm usually silent as the grave. You make poetry fall from my lips._

_My tongue swipes at the spot on your neck, luxuriating in your blood, the little moan that escapes you..._

_More... I need more..._

Not good enough.

I hang my head.

Of course not.

I failed as a soldier, where I thought I excelled.

I thought I was an excellent lover as well, but...

You pull out a knife.

Oh.

Well.

I guess this is it then.

I'm not going to fight you. I'm sick of fighting.

I finally found some peace - I'm not going to leave it.

This is all right. I don't quite remember, but - I think this is what I wanted, anyway.

I breathe deeply.

'there is hope for you yet, Sebastian.'

Is there? _God_ \- the way you say my name - like it was specifically chosen so it would sound beautiful when you speak it.

What do you mean?

The knife touches my neck, and my body goes still. All my senses are alert.

What are you going to do?

Lips. Unexpected. Sweet words, lifting me up, making my heart beat faster.

Taste me.

Sure.

I lift my head, giving you access - to do what, I am not sure -

Pain.

Different pain, this is sharp, metallic, the slightly sickening feeling of cut flesh, but it's a shallow cut, just making a trickle of blood appear, which is touched by your tongue, lapped up, bartered for beautiful words singing your approval of me...

Why do I crave that so much? Me, Sebastian Basher Moran, never needed anyone or anything, especially not anyone's _approval_ \- here I am like a love-sick puppy desperate for a word of appreciation from its master. What's _happening_?

Well I was unsure of that when we went into this... I don't know where I am, where I’m supposed to be, who you are, what happened...

This is just one more mystery to add to the file.

And we'll deal with that, as we decided, after the unpredictable sex.

Unpredictable it certainly is...

_I trail the blade of the knife over the impressive musculature of your back, leaving little nicks and scrapes and admiring the patterns interspersed with the lashes._

_You still haven't expressed any fear or abhorrence - even though a relative stranger has handcuffed you, whipped you until you've bled, and is now merrily cutting your flesh._

_Well. Once I've found your limit, I can either fuck you or kick you out..._

_or fuck you and then kick you out..._

_either way, I have important shit to do, and I can't be babysitting assassins with sad puppy-dog eyes. Hear that, Sebastian?_

_Now... what can I do that will help you realize you're in over your head, and make you want to hightail it out of here?_

_The knife is cutting a vertical line into your flesh next to your shoulder blade._

_Your head is between your arms, and you're trembling. And you're also breathing through it, giving a shuddery sigh like..._

_you're into it?_

_Oh. *Interesting*._

_I look at the line and add another one, diagonal this time._

_A sharp intake of breath. More trembling..._

_Blood was trickling out, now it's streaming._

_The knife moves sharply. Another diagonal line._

_Your body is shaking now, you're making whimpering sounds in your throat._

_"Hush now," I say firmly. "And keep still. You'll ruin the composition..."_

_God help you - you do as ordered. Even though the pain must be excruciating, especially on whipped flesh._

_I have to get this perfect. You've been so good, you deserve a beautiful parting gift. Biting down on my lip, I finish with a vertical line and a sassy little embellishment at the end._

_I move back to admire my handiwork. It's bleeding quite a bit now..._

_well, we'll have to take care of that._

_*After*._

_"Do you know what I've just given you, Sebastian?" I whisper in your ear._

_"An... M," you reply, your voice rough and shaky._

_"I've given you the truth... My name isn't Lord. It's Moriarty..."_

_"*Moriarty*," you echo in a daze. It seems to jog your memory somewhat._

_I smile. I never get enough of the way people say my name._

_"That's right..." I say lightly. "And you've been very good, so you get a little treat."_

_I leave the knife on the bedside table, and caress your face. I press against you to kiss your cheek, making you cry out as I lean against your fresh wound. Then I reach around your hip and begin to stroke your cock._

_"Don't come, honey," I say silkily. " I'm not finished with you yet..."_

_I press my lips into your throat, and one hand plays with your nipples, squeezing them and flicking them. "If you want the best orgasm of your life... and more importantly, if you want to *please* me... you'll come when I say." I bite your neck. "Do you want to please me, Sebastian?"_

Moriarty...

That rings a bell, somewhere, but I can't see which bell, or even the tower it's in...

Not important.

You're stroking me, lying on my back, my blood slick between us. My cock has remained rock hard during everything... even though you've gone much deeper into the dark than I'd ever expected.

And what did you do, Sebastian? You sat there and soaked up the pain - let him cut you open - _why??_

If I knew that...

Your hand on my cock feels magical; I realize I so want to come -

but more than that, I want to please you.

 _Why??_ What the fuck is _wrong_ with you, Moran? Snap _out_ of it, will you? A bit of kinky sex is great, but this guy is a _psycho_! He's fucking cut his _initial_ into you! What's he going to do next? Cut off your cock and stuff it down your throat before he cuts it open??

I don't know. I don't think so.

_I don't THINK so?!?_

"Yes..." I manage to say, though my voice is rough and raw from the cries.

"Yes... I want to please you... Mr Moriarty."

_I run my fingers through your hair languorously. Your eyes close and your head falls back._

_Aww... so sweet._

_"Sir in the bedroom..." I correct. "You *are* pleasing me, honey..."_

_I continue to stroke you with the other hand, and I plant sweet kisses along your jaw._

_You're panting, getting so turned on... all this positive attention, it's a heady thing, isn't it._

_Uh oh... getting close._

_"Don't come..." I whisper, and continue to stroke you._

_"W-what?" you whisper back, eyes screwed shut, your body shivering against me._

_I slap your face sharply, and your eyes open in shock._

_"I gave you an order. You said you wanted to please me..." I pout, and stop stroking._

_"*Don't come*until I say so. Do you understand, Sebastian?" I say slowly and emphatically. I lean over your shoulder and press my lips to yours possessively._

Sir in the bedroom.

I'll remember.

And - I _am_ pleasing you...

My hands grasp the headboard less tightly. I realize my fingers are cramped from how I've been clasping it...

But it is alright.

Whatever happens -

it's alright.

Your hand on my cock feels so good... combines with the pain on my back into a weird amalgam of pleasure and pain that is so dreamy...

I'm rudely interrupted by a slap - my body tenses, wants to lash out, but _no_ \- it's you -

I disappointed you. Disobeyed a direct order.

That will never do, soldier. Stay with it.

I try to pull myself into some semblance of coherence, but your lips are on mine, hungrily, greedily, and I moan into your mouth, delighted by your taste, of my blood, but underneath, something even darker...

As you pull away, and your dark eyes bore into mine, I reply, "Sir. Yes, Sir."

_I smile and press my mouth to yours again._

_Mmm... your lips are so dreamy. I generally don't care to kiss, in fact I rarely kiss, unless it's a role I'm playing._

_But you I feel like I could kiss all day, with pleasure..._

_God... what the hell is wrong with me?_

_*Just fuck that beautiful arse and send it on its way...* I tell myself firmly._

_"Very good, Sebastian... there's just one more thing I want from you," I say lightly, tousling your hair._

_"Yes, Sir?" you murmur._

_"I'd like you to beg, honey." I wait for the stunned look on your face before I continue. "Beg for me to stick my cock in your arse... and I will claim it... fuck it... give you a ride like you've *never* imagined... Would you do that for me?"_

_You stare at me in a daze, and I stroke your face. I shrug. “Or we can just continue what we’ve been doing. I don’t mind.”_

Your kisses are so intoxicating; possessive, hungry, confident.

One more thing you want from me. What could you possibly want from me? I'm tied up here, at your mercy, for you to take what you want...

Beg?

Rebellious Moran rears his head.

Huh. Haven't seen you for a while, mate. Happy to let me be whipped and cuffed and cut, but _begging_ wakes you from your slumber?

I recall an episode in my teens, my dad pushing me against the wall, choking me, my mother screaming "No, Augustus - _NO_...", his red face in my face, growling at me to beg him to stop... me just laughing as the black spots danced in front of my eyes.

I never begged... not anyone.

Dear papa is a terrible homophobe, but he has a particular bee in his bonnet about anal sex. Gets all red and spitty when he talks about it, it _infuriates_ him that there are people in the world who take pleasure in putting a cock into an arse. _Especially_ when it's his son, of course. I think if mum hadn't been there, he might have choked me to death and called it good riddance.

Ha –

 _that's_ what you're here for, my rebellious side...

If only I could film this and send it to Lord Augustus, as my goodbye note...

I turn around, smile at you.

"Please..." I say. "Please, Sir... fuck me. Fuck me _hard_ \- claim me - take me.

Please."

_I watch your response with curiosity. The look on your face is deliciously stubborn... ohh, we're going to have work on on you for *a while* yet..._

_And I had some important work to do. But for you, I'll *make* time, honey..._

_A dark shadow crosses your face. Hmm... where are you going now, pet?_

_Childhood or... no. Adolescence. Young adulthood._

_*Daddy*._

_Who I happen to know from my file is Lord Augustus Moran..._

_Who I happen to know is a right prick._

_So I can only imagine what you suffered at his hands, darling... with your penchant for sex with men, and your rebellious streak..._

_Well, don't worry about it - by the time we're done here, Daddy Dearest will be the last thing on your -_

_*Oh?*_

_And I had planned to make you cry delicious shivery tears by the time we were through..._

_But as I stare at your eyes sparking, your tremulous smile, and your *words*..._

_I find myself intoxicated by this soldier boy chained up in my bed._

_How *unusual*... I think in a daze, and suddenly I find myself uncuffing you..._

_muttering "Turn around, Sebastian"..._

_pushing you down against the bed..._

_cuffing your wrists to the headboard..._

_grabbing lube, nearly dropping it from my trembling hands..._

_preparing my hard cock, and then pushing your legs up..._

_and sliding a lubed-up finger into you._

_"Right here, you say?" I say innocently, as you let out a shaky breath._

_"Yess..." you breathe, and I slide in another finger._

_"You want me to take you... hard?"_

_You moan "God... yes..." and squeeze around my fingers as I work you in - but clearly you're not a shivering virgin, so it doesn't take long to work you into a state._

_I withdraw my fingers, and position myself. You're staring up at me with the bluest eyes, and I'm already panting with excitement, and this does *not* happen, but I can't even slow down to think about it, I just know I have to possess you *right now*..._

_I push inside you, making you groan._

_"As per your request, Moran... commencing in three-"_

_I push in deeper, pause for you to adjust._

_"two-"_

_Your muscles are fluttering against me, and you're panting roughly as you gaze up at me._

_"one-" I whisper, and push in the rest of the way, making us both moan._

I am - released?

Did I fuck up?

No - you push me against the bed, my cut back against the sheets - you'll never get the blood out, I think incoherently - and cuff me back, and I can't believe how much I relish that, being tied down again, the relief in not being allowed to leave.

You look affected by this, your eyes shining, your cock rock hard, but you handle me with full confidence. Push inside me, finger me, make me nearly incoherent with longing for your cock inside me -

and then you are at the ready, looking at me with the deepest darkest eyes I've ever seen, and I can _see_ that they're brown, but they are the black eyes of the Man, and the Man is about to possess me -

I breathe as you enter. _God_ \- I want this _so badly_ -

Relentlessly you push further, deeper, claiming your territory, taking what is yours, rightfully yours, freely and oh so willingly given -

It feels like you go deeper than anyone ever has - and you do, maybe not physically, but no one has ever made me lie in front of him so open, so defenceless, so vulnerable. Your eyes, the black eyes, seem like they will devour me - I am pinned helplessly underneath you, opened up in so many ways, and I don't think anything has ever felt better.

" _God_ \- yes, Sir..." I pant, "please - take me...

_I pause, buried deeply inside you, staring at you. Your muscles squeeze me gently as I do... my eyes close briefly, my head falls back and my body jerks._

_Calm down, Jimmy... you told him you’d give him the ride of his life..._

_*Oh, so this is about him now??*_

_Oh come on... *look at him*... he’s *so sweet*..._

_I feel myself softening towards him, just as my cock is hardening more, and what the *fuck*, Moriarty??_

_But soldier boy certainly seems to like what I’m doing, looking up at me like salvation..._

_God... I’m going to have to keep from taking in a stray, aren’t I._

_For some reason, this thought makes a deeply uncomfortable feeling arise in me..._

_I push this aside in alarm, and begin to move in you, making you moan._

_“Is this to your liking, my dear?” I whisper darkly, and lean down to kiss your lips. I pull on your lip with my teeth, releasing droplets of blood. I lick up the beads of ruby._

_“God, you’re delicious, aren’t you…” I say with a sigh. “If you’re not careful, you’ll never see the sun again...” I murmur and kiss you hard._

I moan as you thrust into me, feeling so good, so filling, so fulfilling...

Fuck first was definitely the right idea.

You bite my lip and lick up the blood... you're quite the vampire, aren't you... but the sharp pain, combined with the pervasive smarting in my back every time it's rubbed against the sheets when you thrust into me, only eggs me on further - I am in some kind of ecstatic painful lala-land and I'm never ever leaving.

I sigh in pleasure, my sigh turning into a groan as you thrust into me hard. I have to fight the urge to move my legs to grasp around your back, but I don't think you'd appreciate that.

No grasping the Man. Just - lying back and enjoying what he brings.

_You’re in proper submissive mode, just taking it as I thrust into you hard, fucking you into the mattress…_

_The headboard is hitting the wall..._

_the springs of the box spring are starting to squeak..._

_you let out gasps and groans, and soon I’m doing it too._

_Since when have I made noises...?_

_God, you really are a fun little plaything... it would be lovely to have you here whenever I want to stick my cock into something pretty..._

_Jesus... stop thinking crazy thoughts and just... fuck... him..._

_I take your leg, wrap it around me... do the same with the other leg..._

_oh god.. so deep now..._

_Panting, I grab your cock and begin to stroke it._

_“I’m thinking of letting you come, honey...” I say dreamily, and then my eyes flash at you._

_“But don’t even *think* about it until I say so...”_

Oh god oh god oh god you're _touching_ me and I nearly _jump_ at that -

I was fully away in dark velvet bliss, but your touch pulls me back with a jolt - a gasp - my eyes widen as I look at you, at your eyes, blinking lazily like a cat playing with his prey, then suddenly flashing black, telling me not to come -

_but I want to..._

Would you disobey an order, Moran?

 _No_... no, not from you...

I hadn't even started to think about me having an orgasm until you touched me; I was so focussed on you...

But now your hand is on my cock it's all I can feel. I've been _so_ close, _so_ long...

But that doesn't matter. You are all that is important. Your pleasure. And I am giving you _such_ pleasure; I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the little shudders in your body, the way your cock seems to grow even larger...

But seeing all that, realizing that you are just taking me, using me to get your gratification, makes _my_ cock only harder and more eager.

Calm down, Seb... let the handsome dominant stranger take from you what he wants...

As is his right...

_I’m driving myself into you, panting, groaning..._

_Oh... god... I’ve never had it like this. Never, never..._

_It’s like something clicked when we touched... a key slid into a lock, twisted round, and then opened..._

_OK, Jimmy... this a fascinating metaphor, but you literally slid into him, and you don’t need to tart it up like that. He’s an almost-stranger I found in my bed, and that makes this encounter insanely hot and fucked up, and we both obviously get off on that, and that’s all this is... got it??_

_I moan loudly, interrupting my silent chiding. Good, I’ve had it up to here with my constant vigilance, anyway. Against what? That I might *feel* something? Whatever. I’ve made it this far without saddling myself with a husband and a houseful of squalling children and fluffy pets. I *think* I should be safe to just let myself enjoy something for once in my fucking life..._

_Like this tall, handsome soldier boy... his legs wrapped around my waist, over the moon that my cock is inside him and giving me pleasure... that’s right, honey..._

_It’s all about me. But I can share..._

_I stroke your majestic cock, and god, you really are a fine specimen... your responses are off the charts, I’ve never been with someone *so* into ill-advised, reckless sex with a dangerous stranger._

_And at this thought, I feel myself begin to shiver..._

_oh god..._

_The headboard thumps against the wall loudly._

_I pull your pelvis against me. My hands grip your arse, digging my nails in._

_“God,” I moan. “*Fuck*...”_

Oh god yes - you're getting there -

I want to squeeze my eyes shut but I force myself to keep them open so I can _see_ you... see what _I_ have done to you... that face, screwed up in delight so strong it almost looks like agony, your mouth open, groaning, swearing, your cock getting even harder as it pounds inside me, your hand leaving my cock to grasp me closer, thank fuck, because I am having a hard enough time not coming just from the sensation, from seeing this, the most beautiful man I've ever seen with his face contorted with pleasure from torturing me, fucking me...

You're shuddering and panting as you thrust inside me, making otherworldly sounds, _fuck_ it's hot to see how you're loving this...

God, you're something else... Riley Moriarty.

_Desire is mounting to a feverish pitch, my thrusts are growing frantic, dragging me into a trance, god yes, *fuck yes*..._

_I’m shaking, all shiverydelicious, my cock is feeling such intense pressure, god, let go, let go..._

_and I do…_

_oh god, I do…_

_I explode into an epic orgasm of shuddering and crying out, and forget who I am and where I am, and..._

_It’s just endless black, which seems so familiar to me..._

_But now there are shimmering stars..._

_Perfect. Beautiful._

_God. This entire experience has been surprisingly intense and... poetic._

_I would say almost romantic, if I had a romantic bone in my body._

_I hear panting._

_Returning to my senses, I blink at the hot stranger quivering underneath me._

_Ah, yes. *You’re* still here._

_What *shall* we do with you?_

_I sigh, push your legs off my waist, and pull out of you - and you seem almost panicked, god, could you be more cute?_

_“Oh don’t worry, Sebastian... I’m suddenly in excellent spirits, and it’s making me feel terribly benevolent...”_

_I loom above you, then with a sly smile, I move down to your cock._

_“Oh, it’s *very* pretty...” I croon. “Let’s have a little taste...”_

_And I slide my lips over it and begin to suck._

I stare at you as your face moves from all screwed up to slowly releasing, panting, relaxing, finally opening your eyes, looking at me. Those eyes... unreadable...

What are you going to do, now you've had your pleasure from me? Will you remember that you thought about letting me come?

You sigh and move out of me, for a moment it looks like you're just going to - leave -

But no - oh thank fuck -

You move -

Oh -

 _Oh_.

Oh - _GOD_ -

I make sounds no one has ever heard before. Having been so hard for so long, and _you_ , doing this, and - oh fuck - your _lips_ -

I lurch under you, this is too _much_ oh _god_ -

"Sir -" I manage, "I - won't last long - Sir -"

_I stop sucking and admire my pretty new toy. I bat the head lazily, enjoying your sharp gasp and watching it move back and forth like an arrow after hitting its mark._

_“You’ll come when I’m good and ready,” I say sweetly. “See warning about never seeing the sun again...”_

_I swirl my tongue over the pink head like an ice cream cone, making you groan desperately. I hide a grin before I resume sucking._

Oh - you stop - _ow_ \- no - be nice to little Seb, like you were just now -

I'll come when you're good and ready? Oh god -

This new form of torture is even crueller than your knife in my flesh - I couldn't disobey you, I _couldn't_ , but my god, what do you think _happens_ when you suck me like that?

I gasp, my fingers grasping thin air, my head arching back, my breath coming shallower and shallower as your skilled mouth continues to torment me.

And once again I'm begging -

"Please - Sir please - oh god please..."

_Oh the sweet sounds of pleading... my lips curl into a smile and I pull them off your cock._

_“Ohh... you need a break. Understood.” I nod sagely, and give the head a pat, which I swear looks like it’s pouting now._

_Your cock isn’t just beautiful... apparently it emotes as well._

_You truly are fascinating, Sebastian Moran..._

_I sit up, wrap my arms around my knees, and grin at you._

_“Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? A belt of whisky?” I bat my eyelashes at you, nearly laughing when your head falls back against the pillow. You are *so much fun* Sebastian..._

Oh you _monster_...

"You think this is funny, do you..." I croak.

_Quick as a whip, I straddle you and grind against your hard cock, making you moan._

_I tilt my head and look at you pensively. “Amusing, at least... oh, *don’t pout*, Sebbie... It’s very unbecoming! And you said you wanted to please me! Was that just to get what you want?” I sulk, and dig my nails into your chest._

"I did want to please you... and I pleased you _quite a lot_ , from what it looked like..." I shiver as your nails drag down my chest, drawing blood. Of course. That side hadn't been damaged yet.

What do I do? Appealing to your better nature is bound to be futile. Maybe flattery...

"But you're so _fucking_ hot and talented..."

No, I didn't think so.

With a sigh, I let my head fall back into the pillow.

"I guess I'm yours to play with as you see fit. Just know that I enjoy this a whole lot less than a knife in my back..."

_My eyes narrow. “Oh and this is all about your enjoyment?” I snap. “When did that happen? I must have missed the announcement, darling...”_

_My hands move to the cuffs and I stare down at you. “Do you want out, Sebastian?” I say in a bored voice, hiding my disappointment._

_It was all so promising... I must have been an *idiot* to think I finally met someone who -_

_Ridiculous. Even geniuses can have their moments of weakness._

_*Fuck it.*_

_Suddenly I can’t wait to have the penthouse to myself so I can smash things and scream until I’m hoarse._

_You’re staring at me aghast._

_*Release him and get him the fuck out,* I shout at myself, but my hands remain still._

"No -"

Shit.

You fucker. I can't win with you, can I?

But - I guess that's it -

A sort of - test?

It's easy to say I'm yours to enjoy when you're doing stuff that excites me - even fucked-up stuff like cutting me open, you little psycho -

but - what does that surrender mean if I withdraw it when it's getting less fun?

_And why is surrender to this guy something that we want, Sebastian? Maybe surrendering to this guy is the stupidest thing you could do, Sebastian? Maybe you should let him uncuff you and run, Sebastian?_

Yeah - and then what?

I look you in the eyes. You look inscrutable.

I cast down my gaze.

"I am sorry, Sir. I spoke unwisely. I was overcome by desire for you.

Please - do with me as you see fit."

Just - please -

don't let me go –

_The look in your eyes - flashes of confusion, frustration, sadness, fear..._

_You’re *drowning* in sadness and fear... for how long, my pretty soldier?_

_I’m used to reading people’s emotions clear as day and then exploiting them for my own agendas. But this..._

_I feel an unfamiliar twinge in my chest, and something *aching *under my ribs._

_What. The. Fuck._

_Suddenly the thought of your sadness is making me feel something akin to being...moved. I don’t approve, I don’t understand, but there it is. A *feeling*._

_I take your face in my hands. “There, there,” I soothe. “Lovely Sebastian... you’re still learning. All is forgiven.” I kiss your lips sweetly, then tighten my grip on your jaw. “Just don’t let it happen again.” I smile slyly, and dive onto your cock._

_Once more your moans fill the room._

I groan and pant my way through this new onslaught. At one point I consider it might be better to be punished than denied, and what are you going to do if I come? But then - the thought of what you might do -

\- say I disappointed you, uncuff me, send me away -

But then how do I know you won't send me away if I do everything you say?

And why the fuck are you so important to me anyway? I may have lost half my memory, but I _do_ remember that _I_ am the one who always makes sure to make myself scarce after the sex is over. Is it because I am confused?

Oh fuck it - I can't _think_ when you're on my cock - and I'm having to concentrate not to come -

Oh god - think of something unsexy -

My mind is blank –

Eh – the ceiling, look at the ceiling, nice pattern in the stuc work, oh fuuuuuuck….

_I dig my nails into your hips, making you gasp. You’re thinking of something else, aren’t you..._

_You should only be thinking of *me*._

_My head pops up. “Oh, did you want to come, darling?” I ask innocently._

_“Yes... *god yes*,” you groan desperately._

_“Alright then... come for me... *now*, ” I murmur and return to sucking you._

_The sounds that follow are so beautiful, I’m smiling as you come in my mouth._

_I continue to suck your cock as you moan and shudder against me._

_There we go, honey... that’s it..._

Oh god - _really??_ \- not a trick??

Oh _FUCK_ -

You keep sucking me and my head implodes. All consciousness ceases as I come as I have never come before, my body jerking and bucking, an orgasm so intense it _hurts_ , and I think my heart stops, and that's alright, that's a _good_ way to go...

I think I nearly pass out, but you keep sucking and it's too much, I'm too sensitive, oh god, you've _drained_ me, I assure you, there's nothing more there for you...

And for the third time today, I beg...

"Please - oh god please, enough -"

_I release you with a smug smile, and delicately dab at the side of my mouth._

_Then I get up onto my knees and once again reach for your cuffs. Only this time, you are looking extremely satisfied, and none of that pesky sadness remains._

_There you go, darling... *I am the nepenthe for your sorrows*..._

_I blink at this unusual thought, and focus on unfastening your restraints. Then I sit down and pull your wrists onto my lap to gently rub the sensation back into them._

_“All better, Sebastian?” I look at you curiously._

Unleashed...

But not released. You rub my wrists in your hands and that's so incredibly moving I have to blink - what the fuck, Moran...

All better?

For now...

"All is good, Sir..." I smile up at you.


	3. Mad Genius Wind Howling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunk on the cool wine of darkness, I eat the bread of life and die. I know. I am blessed by mortality. I am a field enduring, growing wheat one year, barley the next, tangled flowering papyrus, a hill of sand. I am everafter, changing, while the eye of the watcher shines and takes me in.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Nebseni, Chapter XV. Translation Normandi Ellis.

_I look at you curiously. “Technically we’re in the bedroom, I know... but seeing as we’ve both come, you can desist with the *Sir*...”_

_You look at me in surprise._

_*Seriously*... how cute can you be?_

_“Alright... Riley?” you say tentatively._

_I grin. Oh, right. You only know half my actual name. “Get up. I’m going to look at your wounds...” I slide from the bed and wander naked towards the bathroom._

_“And, Sebastian... it’s Jim.” I toss over my shoulder before stepping through the door._

_I look at myself in the mirror. *God*. I’m a flushed, sweaty, dishevelled mess. And why the fuck did I give a one-night stand my actual name??_

_One-morning stand. Whatever._

_I stare at my messy hair, disgruntled, and try to smooth it into submission. “Are you coming?” I shout._

Jim...

Jim... Moriarty?

That _does_ ring a bell - he's - powerful, dangerous, admired, feared - I get a flavour of the emotions surrounding the name, but I can't remember where I heard it, or where I met you before - when I met you before you were not Jim Moriarty...

Ugh. The orgasm hasn't cleared my head...

Am I coming?

"Not quite this moment," I shout back, as I get up, grinning, then wincing as I have to peel myself off the sheets. I look at them, covered in blood. God - you really went to town on me.

Naked, I pad to the bathroom, where you're staring daggers at a stubbornly vertical lock in the mirror. You look unbearably cute...

_Sebastian. This unbearably cute boy just cut his initial into you after whipping your skin open. What the fuck are you still doing here._

Well, he should clean my wounds before anything else. I doubt a knife he had lying around in his bedside table is sterile. Not to mention the sheets.

God, Moran, you've been in some fucked-up situations, but I'm sure you'll agree that this one takes the biscuit.

_You wander into the bathroom and give me a lazy smile. I can see how you would make underpants for both genders go flying._

_The special forces soldier, who’s all muscle and scars, is towering over me, and seems to be taking up most of the bathroom._

_Cocky fucker, I think, and point at the toilet._

_“Sit,” I order. “Back to me.”_

_You obey, walking stiffly to the toilet and plonking yourself down on the lid._

_I look at your back with a discerning eye. “Someone really did a number on you...” I say, frowning._

_You look back at me wryly. “I kinda thought that when the knife started carving me up, yeah...”_

_“Yes, well... when you agree to be restrained by a stranger, you never know what kind of hijinks they’ll get up to. *Trust me*. You’re just lucky I found you charming...”_

_I push your cheek to turn your face back around._

_“Right. This is going to fucking hurt..” I announce grandly. You nod and take a breath. Then I dab the initial on your back with antiseptic, and you inhale sharply. But you manage to remain stoic like a proper soldier, and by the time I finish cleaning it and dressing it, you’ve managed to remain silent -except for when I slap the gauze and tell you you’re done, and you mutter a curse that would make a sailor blush._

_I chuckle. You’re adorable, really. I’ll almost be sad to see you go..._

I'm lucky you found me charming...? I wonder what you do to the unlucky ones.

I'm surprised to feel a stab of - jealousy? - at that thought.

What the fuck Moran? Since when do we get jealous of our sexual conquests?

Well - since when do our sexual conquests _carve their fucking initial_ into me?

Jeezus. This is all seriously fucked up.

Fucking hell - are you using sulphuric acid to clean those wounds? I grit my teeth; I've carried on enough in that bedroom, no need to do so in here as well. Can't have you think I'm someone who just shouts out at a bit of pain... but it feels like there is _no skin_ left on my back, and you're delighting in pouring hydrochloric acid straight onto my nerve endings.

Finally you're done, and you fucking _slap_ the bandaging. I refrain from punching your lights out and just let out one of my more creative curses.

Coffee. I didn't even finish my cup earlier.

"Can I tempt you to cold eggs and coffee?"

_I stare at you blankly. Oh yes. Eggs._

_I’m about to suggest you take yours to go, but you’re looking so flirtatious and sweet, and underneath that - a sense of quiet desperation, like you’re afraid I’m going to ask you to leave. Well, I *am*._

_But... you were shaky *before* the reckless sex where you lost all that blood..._

_If I just shove you out the door, will I just find you passed out in the lift later? Or the pavement? Why is this my concern again?_

_Oh right... it’s not._

_So why am I sighing and leading you back to the bedroom. I throw on track pants, and you pull on your boxer briefs. Then we’re heading back to the kitchen._

_I stare at the untouched breakfast in distaste._

_“You know... cold breakfast is not really my thing. You help yourself, and I’ll just have toast.”_

_I throw bread in the toaster, and drop into a chair, sighing._

You...

... don't look very happy for a guy who's just cut up a special forces soldier and had the orgasm of his life.

Maybe it wasn't the orgasm of your life. Maybe you do this every day.

Yeah, right. That was not the face of someone having a blasé experience. You really felt that.

Then - oh yeah.

We were kind of in the middle of a very weird situation. And leaving it to one side to have... unpredictable sex didn't quite solve it.

I sigh as well.

"I'll make some new eggs," I offer; heat up the frying pan again and crack some eggs, look into the coffee pot. Still warm, but hardly fresh. I pour it out, put the kettle on again, put in some fresh grounds from a pot helpfully labelled 'Coffee'.

How do I breach this subject?

"So... you don't remember last night either?"

... subtle.

_I shoot you a look. “No...” I say with a clenched jaw. “And I thought maybe this would have jogged your memory...”_

_You busy yourself with making breakfast and coffee, like it’s more important than remembering what fucking happened last night._

_“*Think*, Sebastian...” I urge you. “I trust you don’t shoot your associates on the job very often, or you wouldn’t be a very popular hire for security. Why did you protect me yesterday? And... did you seek me out after the bar? Or did I send for you?” I demand._

Wait - what?

"What bar?" I ask, cautiously. Should I let you in on the fact that I remember even less than you?

On the other hand - what have I got to lose? I don't know what happened, I don't know where I live, I don't know how we met - you're the closest thing I've got to a lead.

_I stare at you hard._

_“Seriously?” I ask in disbelief. “You were on a job. I met with Rachid - your boss’s late associate at the Ballroom. You were his security. When I shot him, you shot your fellow bodyguard instead of me. Before I left, I said, ‘Nice moves’...”_

_I lean in, purring in the Northern Irish accent. “‘I love a man who’s dexterous with a gun’... and then ‘see you around, cowboy’...” I give you the same predatory smile, then sit back in my chair, scowling. “Ringing any bells, sweetheart?” I ask in my regular voice._

That _voice_ \- grating against my skull - sounding _wrong_ -

I grasp my head - yes - yes I remember - we were in a bar - I shot - Geoff - oh god why!?

Because you were - are - the Man -

Oh, _fuck_...

No wonder I thought I couldn't go home... they're going to kill me, and rightfully so...

"What the _fuck_ have you done to me!?" I shout at you.

_I watch you in fascination as you react to my voice. Something is going terribly wrong... your memory’s been jogged alright... or maybe punched and kickboxed._

_You do *not* look happy._

_And then you’re *shouting* at me._

_Which makes *me* not happy._

_“What the fuck have *I* done?” I ask scathingly. “I *don’t know*. That’s why I’m *questioning* you, honey. Remember? Did you not enjoy my interrogation method? You seemed to at the time...”_

"That had nothing to do with interrogation," I sneer. "I could tell, by the fact that there was no interrogation happening. So - what the fuck do you want from me? Why did you take me here? Did you drug me? I know nothing about that organization - was just there as a bodyguard, and a _fucking_ piss-poor one at that!"

The kettle is boiled, and my desire for caffeine is big enough that I turn around and pour the hot water into the pot, then turn back to you. You look furious.

_I stare at you, cold fury rising up in me. Who *the fuck* do you think you are, raising your voice to me..._

_After I was *so lovely* to you in bed, took care of *all* your wounds, and let you stay for breakfast!_

_“Well, I imagine you must have fallen and cracked your head last night, by the way you’re acting... considering whose kitchen you’re in, honey...” My eyes flash at you, and I grip the table to not smash a plate and go flying at you._

_Remember, he’s special forces... you’ll have to play this carefully, Jimmy._

_“Remember when I said I *don’t know anything about last night*? It happens to be true, and no amount of snarling and snapping at me is going to change that. I woke up with you in my bed. I wanted to question you but then you made puppy dog eyes at me, and well... you know the rest...” I raise an eyebrow at you. “You’re welcome, by the way...”_

Oh yes - Jim Moriarty - you're some kind of - dangerous powerful - guy.

Well - I'm not powerful, but I'm _fucking_ dangerous, _darling_. I can break your neck in -

_crack_

neck.

I broke a neck.

A _bad_ neck to break -

Eyes. Small. Ten.

Oh _fuck_.

I killed a kid.

No wonder I didn't want to remember.

The maelstrom has turned into a tornado, still impossible to view in its entirety, but bits and pieces are flung at me.

Kills. Hired gun. Snipes. Low-level creeps trying to sound important. Beatings. Break-ins. Drink. Insomnia. Drugs. Sex. Despair.

The Man. The Man at - the hotel room last night. After I killed the kid.

You.

Well. What I thought was you. I keep seeing - the Man.

But - you were the Paddy. When I thought I saw the Man projected on the Paddy, that was you. And now I'm seeing the Man on you - and you are you.

So - were you there last night? When I killed Donner and - the kid?

And then what?

_Fuck_ this is doing my head in.

I glare at the coffee pot. How long does this stuff need to sit?

"Were you - at the hotel last night?"

_I cover my eyes and give a strangled scream. I want to slap your face, but I don’t think it will help._

_I still *really, really* want to slap your face._

_“*I don’t remember*...” I say like you would to a child. If one talked to children. But then... I’d probably want to slap their faces, too._

_“What. Hotel. Darling.”_

"No wait - it wasn't last night, it was the night before - I think. I saw the Paddy - you - after that. It was - the Park Plaza? You were in the room - and then you weren't -"

But you were in Afghanistan, and Eritrea, and Iraq, and that is not fucking possible, so I'm just hallucinating. I'm hallucinating the Man on Jim Moriarty, who happens to be the Paddy, so that fits. And I hallucinated him in many other places before. Because I'm mental.

I press the filter down, pour two cups of coffee, hand you one, sip mine.

It feels good to get my caffeine fix, but it's not going to do anything for my sanity, is it...

_“The Paddy?” I repeat disdainfully. God, you’re just *begging* to be slapped._

_I stare at you and my hand flexes. But you’re trying to piece together information, and I don’t want to interrupt your flow. Slap later._

_“I was in a hotel room two nights ago?” I say urgently. Then I - disappeared?? Your brow is furrowed, and no more information appears to be forthcoming._

_Frustrated, I turn to my coffee. Mmm. Good. I barely had any before; no wonder my temper is fraying... you’re lucky you left the bedroom alive._

_“You should stay here tonight,” I hear myself saying._

_What? Oh. Yes... maybe you can tell me what happens to me at night. God knows I’m tired of slamming into dead ends... and your live end is just *lovely* to slam into..._

_You look unsure at my suggestion but so relieved. Aww._

_I touch your hand to reassure you. After all, that’s what people do..._

_“We’ll have a better chance of figuring things out if we put our heads together...” I say soothingly._

_You raise an eyebrow at me and smile slyly as you sip your coffee._

_What are you, sixteen?_

_“Not *those* heads, Sebastian,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But if you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll let you kiss it...”_

The eggs are done; I slide them onto two plates, add a slice of toast to each, put the plates and the coffee pot on the table, sit down.

I should stay here tonight.

That makes me feel a lot better.

You touched my hand.

That makes me feel even more better.

Which is mad. You are mad, clearly, and are likely to cut my throat for snoring or something.

On the other hand, I am mad as well, and lost to boot.

Great couple.

Anyway. Things are coming back, kind of.

So - if we assume that we met, somehow, probably arranged by you, because you know who I am. After I shot a guy for you - might have piqued your interest. Then we dropped some E, which turned out to be dodgy, and we both lost our memory at some point. Before that, we came over here, and just fell asleep, I think - I'm sure I would have felt it this morning if you'd fucked me last night, and I somehow can't see you letting me fuck you.

So - the first question is - do I trust you?

Do I fuck, but I have little choice. I killed any chance I had with Horace when I shot Geoff ( _why the fuck, Moran??_ ), I don't have any friends in London that I'm aware of, and my family is a no-go either. So - I get out there with half a memory and Horace looking for revenge, or I throw my lot in with a psycho criminal who cuts up strangers he finds in his bed.

I could _not_ tell you what I remember, but I don't really see how it could hurt. And maybe the two of us can piece some things together.

I sigh.

"So - let me come clean with you - I seem to not remember more than just last night. Bits and pieces are coming back, but whatever happened last night really wrecked my brain.

So - can you enlighten me about where we met before?"

_I watch as you prepare the breakfast plates. So strange to have someone here as it is, let alone in my kitchen serving me breakfast..._

_How very... domestic. I glance at the gauze on your shoulder- there’s a splotch of red seeping through, I should check that later..._

_I’m trying not to think of what’s underneath the gauze, raw and bleeding. It was supposed to just be a bit of fun, and now... the soldier boy is spending the day here? And another night?_

_You bring everything to the table and sit. I sip my coffee. You seem to be silently having a conversation with yourself - if it doesn’t involve me, I really have no interest._

_When you finally speak, I put my cup down. Ohh, perfect - he’s having *memory issues*. Playthings aren’t supposed to stick around when they’re broken, I think in irritation._

_But you’re staring at me with hope in your eyes, like I can somehow wave a magic wand and fix this for you._

_“Enlighten you how exactly? I already told you the pertinent details... what more do you want to know?” I stare back at you, not comprehending. I take a forkful of eggs, and nearly swoon with pleasure. God, I had no idea how ravenous I was._

_I chew and swallow. “Mmm. It’s good,” I say grudgingly and take another bite._

I sigh. "So it was just the Ballroom? Where - I was bodyguarding and shot my mate to protect you. Do you have any idea why I did that? And - is there any chance we met before?"

I must sound like a right lunatic.

_“Yes. Just the Ballroom...” I think back to the moment when I realized I wanted to see you in action. God, was that just yesterday?_

_I see myself in the bar, sitting at the table, eyes on you._

_“I found you... interesting...” I hear myself say. “You seemed to recognize me, or - remember something? I don’t know but you seemed freaked out. But then - I get that reaction a lot. I was curious to know more. So I shot Rachid to see how you’d react...”_

_I find myself back in the kitchen, blinking at you. I give you a sly smile._

_“You certainly didn’t disappoint, Sebastian...” I purr, and then shrug. “But why you chose to shoot your mate and protect me, I have no idea. And I don’t remember us meeting before. But then... “ I hesitate._

_Am I really going to-_

_No. I can’t divulge that information, it’s a *weakness*._

_“I’m having some memory issues myself,” I admit._

"So... we *may* have met, but neither of us remembers... odd," I say, rubbing my forehead. I'd forgotten about my hangover, but it's back. "I seem to remember seeing you in a hotel, but you don't remember that. And it was just a glimpse - I may have been wrong."

I'm not going to tell you I've been seeing you for years. That must not have been you - I must be projecting my hallucination on you. It's very consistent though.

"Can I - sorry, this is going to sound odd, but I swear I won't do anything weird - can I touch your face?"

Surely if I'm hallucinating the way you look, it won't extend to my fingers?

Will it?

_I stare at you intently. “Why do you want to touch my face, Sebastian?”_

I sigh.

How am I going to explain this?

Oh - fuck it.

"OK, this is going to sound really really weird, but - I've been seeing you - well - I've been seeing this man for years. I was a career soldier, so I was all over the world, and he'd show up, in the midst of battle, wearing a black suit, looking pale, dark eyes and hair. I didn't see him all the time - I guess five or six times in all. He didn't seem to mind bombs or bullets - I shouted at him to move at one point, and my mates thought I'd gone mad - no one else saw him.

So - I'm in London, I see this man in a hotel room. Maybe before, I don't quite remember. Then the next day, we're meeting some bloke - and he looks like the man. I guess that's why I shot Geoff - though I really can't imagine - _anyway_ , then I wake up here, and there's you - and you look like the man and I can't explain why I a, have been hallucinating you for years when I'd never even met you, or b, I'm hallucinating this visage upon you right now; and I hoped that touching your face might break the hallucination if it's b."

There. Total lunatic in your kitchen. Sorry about that, but then it's not like you're perfectly sane either.

_I listen carefully to what you’re saying, even though it sounds mental... And oh yes, impossible. Surely I would have remembered seeing you._

_Except..._

_There’s the pesky question of what I do at night. Could I have been interacting with you repeatedly...? But *why*?_

_God. I’m feeling *agitated*, and I have to get it under control - agitated for me becomes volatile very quickly. But maybe I’ve finally, finally been given a lead to this question that’s been haunting me for as far back as I can remember._

_I look at you steadily. “Go on then... touch my face.”_

_As your hands come closer and closer, I feel a ribbon of fear wind through me - if the hallucination breaks... what happens to *me*? What if I’m not... real?_

You look less sceptical than I'd have expected. In fact, you look almost - apprehensive? What - what do you know?

I touch your face, watch my fingers slide over it. Your hairline, your slight stubble, your jaws, your nose, your lips. All feel exactly the same as they look.

"You - feel like you look. I don't know what I'd expected...

So... if I have been hallucinating _you_ for several years - maybe - maybe I _did_ meet you before. And I don't remember it. Maybe - the doctors said I have PTSD, and hallucinations were not uncommon. So - what if I had seen you before, in a black suit, in some - I don't know, traumatizing circumstances? And then in times of great stress I started seeing you again?"

I shrug.

"I realize it's far-fetched, but it's all I can think of. May I ask - how old are you?"

_I’m prepared to tense up at the feeling of your hands on me._

_I do *not* care to be touched. Even if I engage in something sexual with someone, it’s a prescribed series of activities - *chain chain, whip whip, blow/fuck*. I can put aside my dislike of being touched if I control the parameters, and I say when and how and for how long._

_What I’m not prepared for is the soothing sensation of your hands gliding over my skin. I haven’t been touched gently since - I was a child, I suppose. A memory surfaces of my mother stroking my forehead when I was sick, but I push this aside urgently._

_You’re very thorough, touching every feature of my face - I guess there’s no glamour that falls away or anything, because you don’t react. When you stop, I realize my eyes have been closed._

_I look at you, blinking. *Jesus*, Jimmy... can you keep it together, or do you want him to tuck you in with soup and a bedtime story??_

_I force myself to listen to what you’re saying._

_“I’m - twenty-eight,” I respond. I’m not used to divulging information about myself - it makes me feel strangely exposed and vulnerable... I feel like I’m about to fidget and wriggle in my seat, but I force myself to stay still._

_Having told you something about myself, I also feel *seen* by you, which is strangely - comforting._

_“And well, you wouldn’t have been the first person who experienced traumatizing circumstances in my presence. But unfortunately, I don’t remember...”_

_I look at you pensively. “All I can think of at the moment for retrieving memories is hypnotherapy - which could very well be a load of bollocks, but... I wonder if it would uncover something for you...”_

"I think I first saw the Man in Afghanistan... so that must have been... when I was in the SAS for three years, so - I was 25... so you were 19. What had you got up to by that time that could have given me traumas?"

_“19...” I muse. “The usual fun and games for a budding criminal mastermind, I suppose. Just building my network... creating influence and notoriety through terror tactics, murder, and mind games. Destabilizing criminal organizations and cutting the heads off the bosses... so to speak. I hadn’t got so far as compromising terrorist organizations or governments at that point. I was so young and starry-eyed...” I grin, taking a sip of my coffee._

_“So in answer to your question, I was *not* in Afghanistan at 19... nor was I near any situations where the SAS would have been involved. Hmm. Lends credibility to your hallucination theory. Unless I have an evil twin I’m not aware of...” I find this idea so ridiculously funny, that I start to giggle._

I listen in amazement.

At nineteen, I was getting tired of shagging my way through Oxford’s colleges, and decided to join the army. You were - a few steps beyond that. My admiration for you is growing.

“So -“ I shrug.

“We still don’t know why I’m hallucinating you, why I shot my mate, how we met up, how we ended up here, and why we’re both suffering memory loss about everything.

Great! It must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays.”

_“That does sum it up, yes...” I say slowly._

_I consider this as I eat my eggs. I hate to admit it, but I may have more success facing this issue with help._

_*I don’t need help.*_

_Oh no, you’re doing a bang-up job on your own... that’s why you’re wandering around town in your sleep doing god knows what._

_*Mfine.*_

_Bitch, please. You are clearly not fine. Let the soldier boy stick around - for now. He may be useful._

_I regard you piercingly as you enthusiastically shovel eggs and toast into your mouth. Fuck anything up and you’re out on your magnificent arse, honey._

_“Well. We may do better solving this particular puzzle together,” I say grudgingly._

_*Together*. The word cuts through me like a laser, and I smother a wince._

Together.

Why does that send a shiver up my spine?

 _Sebastian_.

What??

_You’re not actually staying here, are you?! This is a self-confessed murderer who cut you open during your *first time*. What’s he going to do for your second shag? Add the rest of his name? Cut some bits off? Get a gun to *really* spice things up??_

He’s hot though.

_Could you not think with your cock for *five seconds*?!_

Well what else should I do? I could run to, say, Ecuador, and get myself a job as a hired gun there, but...

_But what??_

... but I want to know what is going on. I want to know why I kept seeing this guy. It’s like - if I kept seeing visions of him, isn’t it likely that he’s got a significant part to play in my life?

_Since when do you believe in that kind of bullshit??_

Do you have a better explanation?

_Fine! He’s significant! Probably because he’s the one who’s going to finally end your streak of luck and slit your throat!_

I’m staying.

_You just want that second shag, don’t you._

Can’t say I don’t.

_How. Did you ever live this long._

Instinct, partially. And my instinct says –

well, that he’s dangerous, lethal, and very likely to kill me at the drop of a hat.

_... SO...?_

So I better not drop any hats.

_You seem apprehensive as you consider the prospect before us... especially working with me. The man who just got his rocks off from cutting you up, and oversees a global network of crime. Well, you’re not a complete idiot. You’re a reckless adrenaline junkie if ever I met one, but - according to my file, you were a special forces soldier on exceptionally dangerous missions. And an impressive assassin in a seedy world of cutthroat lowlifes. Clearly one of your special skills is staying alive..._

_I finish my coffee. “Alright. I have to finish up some work, and then we can discuss our little problem further, and devise a plan. Take a shower and get dressed. And entertain yourself. Quietly.” I get up from the table. I can feel your eyes on me as I wander to the living room. I’m shirtless, barefoot and in track pants, with alarming bedhead that will need attention... and I’m still beautiful and alluring as fuck. Aren’t I, honey..._

_I grin as I throw myself onto the sofa, put my headphones back in, and return to my laptop. Strangely I find myself distracted from work by imagining round two with soldier boy..._

Aw, you're not joining me for a shower?

I think of suggesting it, but you have put your headphones in and are pointedly looking at the laptop.

Alright, point taken; soldier surplus to requirements.

I head back to the bathroom and start up the shower, get in, relish the warm water on my head and face. I think I sweated a bit...

I carefully wash my back, around the waterproof dressing, seeing the water turn pink as I wash off the blood. Well, that's not the first time...

Everything aches.

I whistle as I wash my hair.

_I do my best to focus on work, but I can’t help but be aware of soldier boy in my flat, showering... dressing..._

_Now there’s silence; what’s he up to??_

_I suppose I should shower and dress too, and oh yes, see what he’s got into..._

_Disgruntled, I fire off some quick messages from my phone. Then I pocket it and push my laptop away. As I head towards the stairs, I have a sinking feeling I may have inadvertently told Steve to order grenadine instead of grenades - bloody autocorrect - but he’ll just have to figure it out._

_I’m distracted by the thought of crates of pomegranate cordial showing up at the warehouse when I hear - is that *singing*?_

_I change directions and make a beeline for the library._

_What - is - he -*singing*?_

I look at my clothes - a suit and shirt, both dirty with grass stains - with disdain. I can't wear that. I open your wardrobe to see if maybe you have anything that might fit me -

hoooooooly flypaper, Batman.

No clothes. Instead I am treated to a glimpse into your preferences - and it looks like what I experienced earlier was quite typical. Whips, canes, tawses, restraints, chains, knives - wow. Little Seb perks up - no, my dear. You may be interested but the rest of Big Seb needs a _little_ break to recover.

I close the wardrobe door - I do long to nose, but it feels wrong, like I'm invading your privacy. I only wanted a t-shirt.

Another door leads to a walk-in wardrobe, because _of course_ it does. I look for old, oversized t-shirts, but it doesn't look like you go in for those. There are some dressing gowns, but they're tight around the shoulders.

Oh sod it - I'll just walk around in my pants, see if I can wash that suit.

I head downstairs. Entertain yourself, you said. I think of the gym, but that's probably not a wise idea with open wounds. And the 'quietly' probably precludes trying out those guns...

I open the door opposite the stairs and am delighted to see a library. A proper one, with banker's lamps and plumply upholstered reading chairs. Just like daddy used to have...

I start nosing through the books. You have an awesome collection. The ordering system is at the moment beyond me, but I can see anything from priceless first editions of classics to the latest texts on astrophysics. I move past the shelves, absent-mindedly singing to myself.

_If I had a hatchet_

_It would be yours to have_

_'Cause your decapitating habits feel a little bit orgasmic_

_If I gave you a hatchet_

_It would be yours to have_

_I kind of like the feeling when you stab me in the back_

_I listen to the lyrics as I creep down the hallway. Good voice - a little off-key, but mmm. Sexy._

_And the lyrics - well. I don’t know this song, but - excellent sentiment, darling._

_I peek around the corner of the doorframe. You’re running your hands over the spines of the books, staring up with awe. I in turn stare at your beautiful muscular body, transfixed by the stripes that have remained on your back... Oh. My._

_You’re just a *tiger*, aren’t you._

_Then you turn towards the door, and I slip away quickly._

_Was I spotted? Well, what of it? It’s my property, you’re the interloper here. Although I suppose I could just watch you from the security feed..._

_I climb up the stairs, feeling like I just barely ‘got away’... like an actual tiger could come padding behind me at any moment._

_*Hmph.*_

_If anything, I’m the predatory creature around here, and *he* needs to be wary, I think in irritation. I peel out of my track pants, and get into the shower._

_As I lather up with my expensive body wash, I think back to the file of Sebastian Moran, the kinds of skills he possesses, the kinds of missions he has completed..._

_what if - someone is using him to get to me? And I just accepted his story of memory loss without questioning it? How *unlike* me, I think, troubled. I rinse off as a feeling of unease grows in me._

_I mean - I did see him at a job the day before, and he protected me. But what if - there’s a greater plan that I haven’t spotted yet... and at this very moment a special forces soldier in my penthouse is carrying it out?? While I’m naked and defenceless in the shower??_

_I curse. I leave the water running, slip out and towel off just enough to pull on my track pants. Then I grab some guns from the cabinet, stick one in my waistband._

_Peering down the hall, I creep down the hallway to my office and check the security feed. You’re reading in the living room._

_I sag with relief against my desk. Then taking in a breath, I creep downstairs pointing the gun._

_You’re in my sights, and I smile._

_“Who do you work for, Sebastian?” I purr._

_You look up from your book, stunned._

I'm engrossed in _The First Crusade_ when I hear you come in. I’m ready to give you a lascivious smile, when I hear a question that does not sound seductive at all.

I look up, to see a gun pointed at me.

... right.

You've done some thinking and come to the conclusion that my story is too mental to be true; and it's much more likely that I was sent here by someone who knows your taste in men. Me shooting Geoff yesterday was just to make me trust you.

… oh come on.

I sigh, put a bookmark in the book, lay it on the sofa next to me.

"Well, until you shot his buddy and I shot my colleague, I was working for Lenny Horace, whom you must know.

I assume you think that I've been sent here to... I don't know, find out your secrets, or kidnap you, or whatever, and I don't blame you, but do you _really_ think I couldn't have come up with a better story than the sheer lunacy I told you? I mean - could you even make that up??

And - would I have let you do what you did? I mean - what kind of crazy dedication to whatever organization do you think I have?"

_I grin, enjoying myself. “I don’t know Sebastian... having a completely mental, unbelievable story is just the perfect cover, isn’t it?”_

_I slowly move around the sofa, making sure to stay a safe distance away - not just leaping distance, but also kicking/throwing things distance. Tricky, tricky soldier boy..._

_“And as for crazy dedication... Well, I can see you’re an adrenaline junkie. And I *know* you enjoyed it, honey. Maybe it was just the icing on the cake, hmm?”_

_I shoot over your head, making a vase explode and shower shards of china over the room._

_“What aren’t you telling me, Sebastian?” I say in a soft, dangerous voice._

I can tell you're going to shoot moments before you do; the glance at the area you are going to shoot - not me - the tightening of your hand on the gun, the stiffening of your arm against the recoil.

I sit calmly, letting the bullet fly over me. The sound of the gun is very loud in the room - I hope you have tolerant neighbours.

I shrug. "Fair enough, it could be a double bluff. Tell you a story that's so mental that I couldn't have made it up.

So, let's approach it from the other direction - say I _am_ here for some nefarious reason. I met up with you last night, drugged you so you don't remember it, wake up in your bed with a crazy story, let you carve your fucking _M_ in my back - all for the greater good of... what?

If I wanted to kill you, I could have done so any time. So - why am I here?"

_Oh, *well played*, darling... grace under fire, and all that soldiery goodness._

_I roll my eyes._

_“That’s. What. I’m Trying. To Discern. Sebastian.” I say through a clenched jaw. “Because either there’s a nefarious plan that you’re in on that I haven’t seen through yet, which makes me *very angry* or...”_

_I tilt my head._

_“Someone’s playing both of us. And I have yet to meet *anybody* clever enough to *play* me - do you see why this troubles me, honey?”_

_I watch you closely. You don’t seem troubled in the least by the gunshot... or the chemically imbalanced madman threatening you in your underpants._

_It flies through my head before I can stop it - *My Kind of Man*._

_Fuck’s sake, Jimmy..._

_I grin with delight despite myself and lower my gun. “Get dressed and we’ll go out for a drink. Apparently getting ‘fresh air’ helps one think clearly - it’s worth a try...” I chuckle to myself and head back upstairs._

You're - asking me _out_?

You're also no longer aiming your gun at me.

Result x 2.

I follow you upstairs.

"I have a slight problem," I admit. "My clothes are filthy - I don't know what we did last night, but it involved quite a bit of grass and mud. I can't wear this - and none of your stuff will fit me I don't think."

You look at me, frown, pick up your phone and send a text.

"You'll get some clothes in fifteen minutes. Loose combats and a t-shirt - I assumed you didn't want anything too tight," you grin.

_I make a quick call to security downstairs to take care of any gunshot complaints, and to have the clothing delivery sent straight up._

_Then I throw some product in my hair to make the most of my tousled bedhead look. By the look on your face when I suggested a drink, being polished and coiffed is pretty fucking far from your radar._

_I dress quickly, throwing on a similar outfit to Riley Lord’s. Maybe this will also jog your memory - there’s no question it will get me more hot sex with an amnesiac ex-soldier._

_There’s a call up from security downstairs, and then the clothes arrive. I throw the package to you when you suddenly appear at the door looking suspicious - down, boy._

_“We’re leaving in five minutes, get re-e-eady...” I sing, and wander lazily over to the sofa to take a final glance at my laptop._

The trousers and shirt are blissfully loose, yet still look good. There are clean pants and socks as well.

You've chosen a deep black for all, and you're in black as well - akin to what you wore yesterday.

I look in the mirror, pull a hand through my hair - and then I notice your trimmer, look at my scruffy beard - yeah. Quick tidy.

A minute later, I rinse the little hairs into the drain, then look at my reflection in the mirror. I look ten years younger.

_I look up from my laptop, and you’ve suddenly appeared again, dressed and ready._

_“Careful with the silent ninja moves, Tiger...” I mutter, then give you a predatory smile. “You don’t want that pretty head blown off...”_

_I close the lid of my laptop and stand up to assess you._

_“Oooh, more dangerous-scruffy than derelict-scruffy. It looks *lovely* on you...” I croon._

_I stand up and take your arm. “I know just the place...” I say silkily._

_When the car drops us at the Ballroom, you don’t look surprised. “Unnecessary risk, isn’t it?” you murmur as we enter._

_I pat your muscular shoulder. Mmm. So solid..._

_“I have you to protect me,” I say cheerfully. We sit at a table. “Rum and coke. And - why not order us some food, too. Fish and chips for me. On Mr Lord’s account.”_

Sure, Sir...

I head to the bar, where the barman very pointedly does not recognize me, order a pint, rum and coke, and two plates of fish and chips, make my way back to you. From the corner table you’ve chosen, I can keep an eye on the entire room and both entrances, which is good.

I wonder how long it will take for the barman to phone Horace.

_I see you checking the room as you return from the bar... the barman eyeing you... I smile with pleasure at the seeds of mayhem I sow wherever I go._

_It really is an addiction... but well, the world can be so terribly dull and I have to make my own entertainment more often than not._

_Besides - how will I know what kind of bodyguard you'll be if I don't test you with different scenarios? I suppose I should inform you of this potential employment at some point - I don't think you'll put up too much of a fuss. You already seem so attached to me, poor lamb._

_Of course I've already arranged for back-up security inside and outside the Ballroom... not that you need to know this. But maybe you'll figure it out._

_You sit down across from me. I lean against the seat cushion and sip my drink._

_"You look so grim," I complain cheerfully. "Relax, Sebastian..."_

Is this a test?

For what?

You must have guys watching the place. Someone of your calibre wouldn't go into a place like this with a guy who's likely to attract aggression and just risk it.

I scan the room.

There, the guy nursing a pint in the corner. Gun under his jacket, keeping a very surreptitious eye on us. And that guy at the slot machine. Both seem alert; good.

So - what is the point of bringing me here? Seeing if it rings a bell? Well - I already remembered meeting you here yesterday.

Showing Horace that I'm with you now? But presumably the people here don't know you're Moriarty - all they'll see is an Englishman defecting to the IRA - an SAS man at that. I grin.

So... do you want to see how _I_ deal with an attack? Are you thinking of hiring me? Even though I've shown you that I'm more loopy than a telephone cord? I'm flattered.

I sip my pint. You've taken up your grating Northern Irish accent again and are talking about football. I give non-committal grunts.

_After some inane chatter, the plates of fish and chips arrive and are tossed onto the table._

_"My god, the pageantry..." I respond sarcastically, which is ignored by the server walking away._

_"Standards, Mr Moran..." I say sadly, shaking my head._

_You raise an eyebrow and dig into your fish. "If you wanted standards, maybe this was the wrong place to come to...?" you say wryly._

_I pop a chip into my mouth. "Disappointed?" I ask innocently._

_There's a flash of something in your eye, then you look away._

_Oh you adorable *thing*... did you think this was a *date*?_

_God, I am going to rail that sweet arse so hard... I grin at you and pop another chip in my mouth._

_"We won't stay long. We can go to a nicer place - after."_

_"After what?" You say warily, scanning the bar. "The attempt on my life?"_

_"Don't spoil the surprise, honey," I chide. "Now. Tell me something. Other than yesterday afternoon, what do you remember? It could be something adorable from childhood, or something naughty from adolescence. Or something depraved and bloody from adulthood. I don't mind..." I squeeze your hand, enjoying watching your eyes fixate on my fingers sliding over yours._

I - suddenly only remember this morning.

Think, Moran. What does he want with this question? Why is he asking it?

Is it just to make small-talk?

Jesus. Stop analysing. Just tell him a story.

“When I was in Afghanistan, I helped a goat give birth to twins. The first one had the umbilical cord twisted around its neck so she was choking it when trying to push him out. She was bleating like mad, so I sought her out to see what was going on. I tried to get the cord free, but ended up cutting it and helping the baby goat and its sibling out.

So at least the invasion of Afghanistan did _some_ good.”

You chuckle, and - there we go. Two guys I don’t know walk in, clearly thugs. I see your guys tense up imperceptibly. My hand clutches my gun in my trousers.

They walk up to us, one of them grabs a chair, turns it round, and straddles it, while the other guy keeps standing, his hand in his jacket.

“Moran! Fancy seeing you here!”

I smile. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Don’t I just! See, funny thing happened here yesterday. Your dear friend Geoff was found dead - by a bullet from his own gun! And Rachid as well - Lenny was _so_ upset.

Now the funny thing is - they were supposed to be protected by this guy - oh, forgotten his name, big ugly fucker - can you remember, Moran?”

_"*Ugly*?" I snap. I know Sebastian can take care of himself, but that's just insulting to Beauty itself._

_My eyes narrow, and then I realize I momentarily dropped my accent. Not that I think these eejits could tell._

_Eejit #1 has turned to face me, and I smile at him lazily. "Have yeh looked in de mirror lately, darlin'?"_

_He sneers. "Oh we haven't forgotten about *you*, Lord. We'll get to you in a moment, but Moran here has to answer for what he's done."_

_"Oh an' I'm surely glad to hear you haven't forgotten about the good Lord..." I reply, hand over my heart. "But I'm afraid yeh've interrupted an important conversation..."_

_He stares at me, flabbergasted and furious. "The *balls* on both of you to show up here the next day... for *conversation* over fish and chips," he spits out, stabbing my piece of fish with his filthy finger, and then flinging it forward. It bounces off my leather coat, and skitters across the table. I look down at the spot on my jacket with the tell-tale spot of grease left behind._

_"Now yeh've done it..." I say cheerily, but I can feel my eyes begin to glitter. And I can see it in the look of fear that crosses their faces before Eejit #1 moves his gun from his lap to just over the table._

_"You know where the back room is, don't you... let's take a walk." He stands, staring at us menacingly._

_"For thus saith the Lord unto me," I drawl, looking at you. "Take the wine cup of dis fury at mah hand - and cause all to whom ah send thee, to drink it." I wink at you, and hold up my rum and coke. "To you, m'dears... the next round is on me."_

_I take a sip and place it back on the table with a thump, staring at the now scowling eejits._

_"Oh the Bible is a *terribly* dreary read, I'll admit - but it does provide some fun, frisky quotes for parties... first dates... funerals..." I rattle off and pop another chip in my mouth._

_Scowling eejit #1 nods at scowling eejit #2, who gets into position to manhandle us. "Enough of this," he barks. "*Move*."_

_"Sebastian, ah don't know about dese friends of yours," I sniff. "Do yeh want to order a round for de back room? Or talk by de car, where ah have a little gift for you?" I grin. "Do you boys want to see the surprise, too?"_

I can shoot one of them but not both. I have a better chance when we get to the back room, but I'm pretty sure your buddies won't be happy with you disappearing from their sight.

However, the standing guy moves his hand out of his jacket and gets behind us, bends over to grab us both by the arm. Oh you blessed idiots.

I shoot the seated guy in the groin at the same time as I kick the table at him, so it jars the arm holding the gun. I bash my head into the face of the idiot bent over us as I grab his jacket, feel the gun in the inside pocket. The guy who was seated is screaming but still holds his gun, so I shoot him in the chest, which makes him drop it. I hold on firmly to the jacket of the guy behind me who is trying to reach his pocket, bash my head into his face again, hearing his nose crack, then put my gun to his neck. He stops reaching for his gun, raises his arms instead. The other guy is not moving; dead or unconscious. I take the gun out of the jacket, put it in my pocket.

A woman is screaming, people are running out the door. Not your guys though.

"Anything you want this lowlife to tell his superiors, or shall I get rid of him?"

_I watch all this unfolding like dinner theatre as I eat my chips._

_"Oh bring 'im to de car..." I say airily, and stand up. You shrug, hustling the profusely bleeding man with you. I head out the back way, you following, and security dispersing to monitor the situation outside the building._

_When we reach the car, you tilt your head and listen closely. The back of the car is shaking and there are muffled yells. I snap my fingers and the driver unlocks it. I throw open the boot with a flourish and gesture at you. You look in to see a tied up and furious Lenny Horace in the boot._

_"What the *fuck*, Mora-" he screams before I slam the door down._

_The man you're holding turns white as a sheet. I get into the car, and you shove the horrified man into the back with us._

_"Well, darlin'? How d'ye like yer gift?" I lean against the chair, and cross one leg over the other. "And what d'ye want to do wit' him, so *dis* gentleman can divulge the details to whoever ye wish? Or take to his grave. Whatever." I grin._


	4. He Gives Himself and the Self Is Given to Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even nothing can not last. The seed laid into the void must grow. The candle's only purpose is to shine in the darkness. Bread is meant to be ground to pulp in the teeth. The function of life is to have something to offer death. Ah, but the spirit lies always between, coming and going in and out of heaven, filling and leaving the houses of earth. A man forgets, but his heart remembers - the love and the terror, the weeping, the beating of wings.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, Chapter XXX. Translation Normandi Ellis.

What -

What are you doing with Horace? I thought you wanted a deal with him? Didn't you shoot Rachid to put pressure on him?

And - he's a gift for _me_? What do _I_ want with Horace!?

What the _fuck_ , Moriarty??

I stare at you. Finally I get my brain together enough to speak.

"You know, you could have just bought me roses."

_I chuckle. "He was goin' to have yeh killed, y'know... after yer little stunt last night. They wouldn't have stopped comin' after you - ol' Lenny likes to make *statements*. So I have a statement of my own to make..." I pat your thigh. "No one touches what's mine. Now - do yeh want to work for me or not, Moran?"_

_Mine_

The word swims in my brain, echoing, bouncing through my head.

_Mine_

_No one touches what’s-_

_Mine_

You cut your deal with Horace to get him because he was going to kill me?!

And he can’t kill me because I’m

_Yours_

_Seb. You’re not considering this, are you?! He’s mental. You don’t want to work for him; he’ll cut you to pieces._

_Mine_

Those sparkling dark eyes, looking so proud of their gift, like a cat who brought you a half-dead rat...

_Mine_

My entire body is electrified at that word, like it wants to swoon - get it together, soldier, he’s offering you a job, not a ring -

Why are you offering me a job?! I’ve clearly shown I am crazy and can’t be trusted -

So we’re a good match -

And it’s not like I have any choice -

And I want to -

I want to stay with you.

_Oh for fuck’s sake Moran-_

_Mine_.

_Yours_.

“Only if you drop that atrocious accent.”

_I watch the battle in your eyes, already pleased with the outcome._

_As if you could say no to me, darling..._

_But when you succumb to my offer, I still feel a surge of triumph._

_I shoot you a comically irritated look. "Accent?" I echo, back to my regular voice. "I don't know what you mean..."_

_The man does a double take, and stares at me, open-mouthed - rather cartoony, and yes, entertaining... but I think I've had enough of performing for an audience, for now._

_Well. An audience of one is all I need._

_I flick non-existent lint off my shoulder. "I don't know what you had in mind for tonight, but I don't intend to bring this gentleman home with us, so - what's the plan, Sebastian?" I yawn, and start scrolling on my phone._

"What," I grin, "no threesome? Here I was thinking he'd come in handy if you were planning to do any more cutting..."

The thug pales. "Listen, you fucking poofters, leave me out of your sick games -"

You tut. "Aw, such coarse language..."

I punch the guy hard. His head flies against the window, and he's out for now.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I hate shooting people inside a car, it's so incredibly loud..."

You smile and tell the driver to head to the warehouse.

_En route we eye each other surreptitiously, and hide our smiles._

_Something has shifted in the decision to offer employment, and the decision to say yes to it._

_As if any other choice were possible, I find myself thinking, before stifling the notion that *I* am not master of my own destiny..._

_I text my security from the bar to meet us at the warehouse._

_When the car arrives, I brush against you as I exit. You glance at me with a heated gaze. Something tells me round two is going to be off the charts..._

_Especially if violence heats up your blood likes it does mine._

_I walk towards the warehouse, as you carry the thug over your shoulder. I fling open the doors theatrically and you follow._

_Soon the man is tied to a chair and you look at me expectantly. I lean down and flick his cheek. Still out cold._

_“When security arrives, they can bring in dear Lenny from the boot. Until then we have a few minutes of peace and quiet.”_

_I wander around, staring at the ceiling. Then I trail my hand along your t-shirt, enjoying the feeling of your muscular chest under the fabric. God... I can’t wait to see it again, with all my marks emblazoned on your skin._

_My hand moves down your abdomen, and then into your waistband. I clasp it to yank you forward against me, and then look up with a raised eyebrow._

_“My. You’re quite something to behold in action...” I drawl. “Welcome to the Empire, Moran.”_

Hmmm. New Boss seems keen on improper conduct in the workplace.

I move my hands to your back, but you tut.

“Hands off, Moran...”

So I drop them by my side again, waiting to see what you want.

You take a step back. “Take off that t-shirt. It’s too warm in here.”

It certainly is now. I pull off my shirt, throw it on a pallet. You walk around me, assessing me, your eyes taking in every detail. I feel like cattle on display, but also kind of excited. You taking pleasure in my body, even by just eyeing it, is - exhilarating.

Your hands slide across the bandages on my back, then your nail digs into one of the shallower unbandaged cuts, making it bleed again. You lean forward and lick up the trickle of blood, then kiss the wound.

“Your blood is so heady, Sebbie...” you murmur. “Excellent vintage...”

I keep standing still in the quiet warehouse, a single dangling strip light illuminating the gloom, as you walk back round, eye me from the front.

“Shoes and trousers off too, I think...” you say, your finger and thumb rubbing your chin like you’re appreciating a complex work of art.

I toe off my shoes, let the combats fall, step out of them and my socks.

You wave your hand at my underpants irritably, so I lower them as well, stand in front of you naked on the dusty floor.

You smile and start your perambulation again, stroking your fingers over the lines on my arse, ignoring my cock which is perking up to see what’s happening.

“Yes, I have to say you were a bit of an impulse buy, but _very_ good.”

Suddenly you are right in front of me, smelling my neck, then kissing - no - biting it. I give a small groan.

You pull back, smiling. Your eyes are black, your face in shadow.

You push on my shoulder, and I sink to my knees in front of you. Your hands open your belt, your button, your zip, push down your briefs, and produce your cock.

I don’t need the hand you dig into my hair as encouragement to lean forward, start licking. Your cock is beautiful, perfectly formed, tasting sweet. My hand touches your hip, but is slapped - ok. No hands.

I hear sounds outside. My foot draws my trousers nearer, my hand feels for my gun, as you chuckle.

_I hear cautious movement at the door, and then Steve calls out "Sir?"_

_I look up and see a tied-up and now-gagged Lenny being dragged in by Steve and another grim member of my security team. Lenny's face goes from furious to stunned in a micro-second._

_You start to slide your lips from my cock, and I pull at your hair sharply._

_“I didn't say to stop, honey," I rebuke mildly._

_I look up at Steve who, to his credit, takes all this in stride. "Steve, I'm just giving an orientation to a new employee. Won't be much longer, he's a quick study."_

_The other man looks like he's going to start giggling nervously, but Steve shoots him a 'shut the fuck up if you know what's good for you' look - which he wisely adheres to._

_"Oh, how rude of me - this is the new member of our team - Sebastian," I say lazily, pulling your head off my cock and turning your face around. "Say hello, Sebastian..."_

_"Hello, Sebastian," you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm._

_You give a jaunty wave and a feral grin to Lenny, and I chuckle before turning your head back around. "As you were, Moran," I sigh, closing my eyes._

_"Steve, please keep Mr Horace occupied in the car until we've finished our meeting."_

_"Of course, Sir..." he says, and they drag Lenny away._

_And we're alone again._

_And everything is beautiful._

_My head falls back dreamily, and I take in the sensation of your lips and tongue on me, the pleased sounds in your throat._

_I moan softly. God... the fates were so generous when they dropped you into my bed..._

_I start to pant, and my fingers, which have been gently stroking your hair, begin to grasp harder._

It’s your men. I thought so, but you can never be too careful.

You don’t see this as a reason to stop what I’m doing, so I’m on my knees, naked, my cut-up back and whipped arse in plain view, as a guy called Steve and his colleague draw Lenny inside. When I’m turned around to greet them, the look on Horace’s face is priceless.

Our confrontation is short-lived, as you send him and his escorts out again. Part of me had expected you to have them wait while I was doing my job. I don’t mind a bit of exhibitionism, but I prefer this - just you, me, and your delicious sounds...

Then I’m pulled off.

“Not quite yet, my darling - you are _very_ skilled, but I have some plans for later.

Get dressed, then get the other lads in.”

You zip yourself back up, take your phone out of your pocket, and start scrolling through it.

I wipe my mouth, put my clothes back on, and head to the car.

“Hi Steve,” I grin. He grins back - good, no weirdness. “The Boss says you can come back in.”

He nods to his friend, who jostles Horace back into the warehouse.

_When you return with the men and Horace, I’m sitting on a crate, one leg crossed over the other. I look up from my phone._

_“Ah, yes. Horace,” I say, surprised - as if I’d already forgotten about him. Truthfully I’d been fixated on new furniture for the living room, and was picturing bending you over each potential piece - sofa, antique desk, chaise longue._

_“So - a little birdie sang to me last night, Horace. It was a song about stringing up a certain bodyguard for his reckless behaviour... torturing him... leaving him dead and bloody... making it known what happens when someone crosses Lenny Horace. Because you’ve been having problems with loyalty, haven’t you Lenny? Only this was the last straw... one of your men shoots another of your men to protect someone from *another organization*? There’s just one problem, as I see it...”_

_I lie down along the crate, on my side, my jaw leaning against my hand - the suit will be unwearable after getting dusty. But sometimes effect is everything..._

_“Sebastian was already mine by then. And no, he wasn’t playing you. Don’t ask me to explain it. The *point* is - are you listening, Lenny? He wasn’t being disloyal. He already had a higher calling by then... Understand?”_

_I wave at Steve to remove the gag from the angry hostage’s mouth. Lenny coughs and sputters a bit._

_“Higher calling?? And who are you, Lord?” he asks incredulously. “You’re not even officially IRA anymore, you...” he trails off. “What - happened to your accent?” He asks suspiciously, with a hint of panic._

_“My accent?” I echo in confusion. “Oh, *that*. Apparently Sebastian didn’t *like* it. Can you believe it... *de bollocks on ‘im*...” I say fiercely with the Belfast accent, rolling over and hopping off the crate. I saunter towards them. You stare at me in fascination._

_“I don’t work for who you think I work for...” I say offhandedly, looking at my phone. Oh, what a *beautiful* love seat. And perfect for taking *your* love seat good and hard... I click on Purchase. *Done.*_

_“Who then?” he demands._

_Distracted and still admiring my purchase, I nod at you. “Tell him whose man you are now, honey...”_

I can't help but have a massive grin on my face during your show. It's magnificent. Poor Lenny must be furious.

I turn to him, confess, "I'm Moriarty's now. Not to say that I didn't have a good time working for you - oh, no, wait, I didn't."

His mouth drops open. "Moriarty?" He looks at you, unbelieving.

_"Moriarty?? Where?" I give Horace a comically horrified look, and cover my mouth. Then I lower it with a grin._

_"Nobody knows who Moriarty is, silly! But let's consider your question. *If* you saw the face of Moriarty... And as we know nobody knows the identity of Moriarty... Then... what does that mean for Lenny Horace?"_

_I look at him quizzically, scratching my head. Then I walk towards you, and press myself against you._

_"Sebastian, do you know how to answer this conundrum?" I say, looking up at you through my eyelashes._

"Well, I don't know..." I scratch my chin. "I'm only a simple soldier. *But*, I think there are three types of people who see Moriarty's face. The first type is a supremely talented businessman, whom he can use as an associate, like Steve and his friend here." Steve grins and nods.

"Then the second type is the extremely attractive man, whom he can use to suck his cock, like me, for instance." You smile a beaming smile at that.

"And the third category, which I think you fall under, because you are neither talented, nor attractive, is the person who is about to die."

I turn to you. "Was that right, Mr Moriarty?"

_"*Excellent* work, my dear..." I coo. "Keep it up and you'll be in the first category *as well* as the second..."_

_I turn my smile to Lenny, whose fate is becoming apparent to him at last. The usual blather begins about what he can give me, don't do something you'll regret, waitwait*wait*, etc._

_"Sorry, Lenny... You were a gift for my new man. How uncouth would it be to take it away from him? After you threatened to kill him so terribly?" I tut at him, and turn back to you. "Have you ever had churros, Sebastian? Deep-fried dough with cinnamon and sugar. Delicious. When we're done here, we'll go out for churros."_

_With a smile playing on my lips, I return to my phone._

Oh - he's my gift, so it's up to me to dispose of him, is it? And you want to know how.

Well, Horace has never been mean to me. He gave me a job, and paid reasonably.

I mean, he's a twat, but most people are. He was out to kill me, but seeing as I shot my mate and let one of his favourite guys get killed, that's not unreasonable either.

I pull my gun, shoot him through the head, then shoot his associate.

"Let's have churros," I nod at you.

_Decisive and professional. Not taking anything personally. But completely not fussed by taking a life when needed._

_Well, there will be other scenarios to see different sides of you... but this was a very good start._

_I don't know what it is about you, that I want to know more..._

_But I do._

_I tilt my head towards the door and begin to walk. You trail after me._

_"Bye, Steve," I call out._

_"Good evening, Sir... Sebastian," Steve says with a smile. I stifle a chuckle at his first impression of you - naked in a warehouse, your skin whipped to hell, on your knees and sucking your employer's cock. I'm getting hard just thinking about it._

_I glance at you, and by your heated look I suspect you might have similar thoughts. I smile as I get into the car._

_Strange to think I only met you yesterday. Briefly. And then this morning, meeting officially. Making you breakfast within minutes. And tying you up and fucking you before we even ate._

_Jesus... I'm going to end up with a massive erection if I keep thinking about this. And I definitely want to take my time with you..._

_"Well, that was a lark..." I sigh with pleasure, and lean back against the seat. "I certainly didn't expect when I woke up with a strange man that I would end up having rough, deviant sex *and* a new employee *and* a date for churros..." I drawl. "What a lovely plaything you are, Sebastian... so full of surprises!"_

“Glad you approve,” what do I say? Jim seems - too intimate for a work setting. It’s kind of a work setting right? Or is it a date? Since we’re going for churros? I don’t even like churros much. But if you like them I’ll eat them.

Anyway. Finish your sentence.

“... Sir.” Best play it safe.

You raise an eyebrow, get back on your phone.

“So - now I’m an employee... do you have any specific employ in mind? I assume it won’t be just cocksucking?”

_Oh, *Sir*... I do enjoy hearing Sir from your lips._

_“Well, cocksucking is one of your impressive skills, but I’ve certainly never had to hire anyone before...” I say wryly. “And it would *probably* be a waste of your other skills, Mr SAS soldier... so let’s say for now you’ll do security... assassinations as needed... and as for the wide variety of other tasks that may be needed by the Empire, we’ll just see. Based on your file, I’m certain you’ll do excellent work, darling.”_

_I look up from my phone and pat your cheek. “If not, I’ll reconsider you as my personal courtesan.“_

_I return to scrolling on my phone. “And I suppose we could discuss if there’s any additional types of work you’d be interested in, besides cocksucking?”_

SAS soldier? File?

Huh - you've done research on me then. But - that's classified -

Yeah, like that would stop you.

"Security, assassination as needed, cocksucking. Sounds fine. A nice cross-section of my skills. I am also good at cooking breakfast, speak French, German, some Russian, and some Dari, and can juggle with up to five balls."

_"One ball per language?" I muse. "Lovely! And if we ever want to escape this life of crime, we can join a carnival. I'll be the Master of Ceremonies and you can be the juggler. Can you throw knives as well?"_

_I frown as I see a message pop up. Not good news - but I'll deal with it tomorrow._

_I look up and see you watching me closely. "You really don't remember where you lived, Sebastian? You'll need all new clothes, weapons, and sundries... that's going to be a lot of cocksucking to make it up to me, darling..."_

"Yes, I can throw knives... that's part of the security and assassination though," I reply.

"I think I do remember where I live... things are kind of coming back. It's in... Angel? Near Angel. At the top of a building. I'm sure I would recognize it if I went there. I'd like to get my stuff, if it's still there."

The moment I've said it, I realize that I assumed that I would be staying with you - oh - that's terribly presumptuous - shit -

"I mean - did you want me to-"

_I smile patiently as you get flustered and can't quite formulate the question of where you'll be staying._

_"Sebastian, darling... are you enquiring if you've been invited to a sleepover?" I drawl._

_The look on your face is priceless, and I can't help but chuckle._

_"You're just the sweetest thing! Why don't you throw a few things in a bag, and when it's time to go home, you'll be the first to know..."_

_I pat your hand. I'm not finished with you yet- not by a long shot. I have every intention of having you naked and underneath me this evening. We'll see what tomorrow brings, Sebastian Moran..._

Right -

Right.

Throw stuff in a bag. Clothes. Weapons. I don't have a pet, do I?! I suddenly panic, but no - no, of course not.

You tell the driver to drive to Angel tube station, I guide him from there - it's only two roads, a high-rise block - yes, the left one. I had keys in my suit pocket, I transferred them to these trousers, as well as my gun and wallet. I look at you. "Did you check if Horace sent anyone here?"

You look at me with a weary expression. "You didn't know where you lived, did you? How would I have known?"

I look down. "Oh yeah - sorry-"

"It's clear," you sigh.

I look up at you, but you're staring at your phone again.

You - you knew where I lived. You must have learnt it from your file.

But you pretended you didn't - was that just to throw me? Or -

\- were you hoping I'd stay with you if I didn't have a house -

Fuck off, Moran. He was just teasing, seeing if he could jog your memory. Get in there, get your stuff, get back.

I head to my apartment. Someone's been in here, I can see that, but nothing's been removed or disturbed.

I get my favourite weapons, some socks and underwear, different types of clothes, and - oh - my toothbrush - I must have used yours this morning. Well, I'm sure you have a spare.

In the bedroom I see a paperback lying face down on the bedside table. A Terry Pratchett - I pick it up - Mort. I don't quite recall the story but I remember I enjoyed it. I put the lighter that lay beside it between the pages to mark my place and chuck it in the bag.

I'm back out at the car again in ten minutes.

_In the car, I do some work on my phone as I wait._

_Strange to think of actually waiting for someone... should I have gone up with you? I’m curious to see how you live - well. I suppose I can drop by anytime I like, whether you’re home or not._

_When you return, the car takes us to the churro stand I like in Camden Market - not the kind of haunt you would expect me to frequent, I’m guessing. But sometimes when I’m playing a role as someone else, I discover places that for whatever reason catch my fancy. And when I return it reminds me of being someone else for a little while._

_Strange that I should want to share that with you. But here we are, lined up outside a food stand behind tourists, waiting to order our fried dough._

_“Chocolate sauce, my dear?” I ask then tilt my head. “Nnno... You’ll want yours plain, won’t you... Grab us a table, won’t you?”_

_I’m unsure what’s come over me, but I’m not quite ready to return home..._

I go to claim a free table, sit down to wait for you.

A girl walks by, I smell a whiff of her perfume - something light and floral. I glance at her yellow cardigan. Her footsteps echo on the tiles.

Louder and louder. The smell moving through my nose into my brain, permeating my cranium.

The yellow growing brighter -

The world slowly disappears into the background, until all there is is her, moving through a grey crowd, her yellow cardigan shifting as her arms move in counterpoint to her legs, her shoulders going up and down - it's growing smaller as she moves, people get in between her and me, and then grows bigger as I approach her -

"Sebastian!"

A sharp snap, bursting the bubble I am in, the only thing that could –

your voice –

you want me -

but she _needs_ me -

I stand, trembling, caught between want and need –

_I'm carrying the churros towards where I saw you sit down - wondering why the hell I didn't let you take care of this while I got the table - when I see you walking away._

_*What*?_

_I scan the area, feeling a strange disturbance in the air - unsettling me, causing me *feelings*..._

_you're following someone. Someone who's a threat?_

_My eyes immediately lock on some bitch in yellow._

_*Yellow*. What have we here, little ray of sunshine?_

_Cold fury moves through me. My eyes rake over her back with such laser precision it's a wonder I don't leave smouldering black lines. You are *lucky* I have other things on my mind, girlie..._

_I snap at you, and you turn slightly - but you seem frozen._

_"Sebastian..." I say in a quiet, dangerous voice. "What do you think you're doing?"_

_You say nothing._

_I step up to you and get in your face. "Do you know the woman in that unfortunate ensemble? Because if she's not an assassin trying to murder us, or an old school chum who killed your dog, then getting up from that table was a very *very* bad idea. Understood?" I can practically feel sparks coming out of my eyes._

_Why am I getting so bent out of shape? Why don't I just return to the car, and leave him to his half-remembered life?_

_"Remember whose mark is in emblazoned on your skin, my darling..." I say in a low growl and raise my chin. "You do as *I* say now..." I purr, staring at you intently._

Yes - yes of course - you -

But she -

I feel myself nearly literally torn in two, and a little whine escapes my lips –

\- and then a fire blossoms on my right cheek as you slap it, the bags of churros in your right hand, your face pale and furious.

"If you don't sit down at that table _right now_ , you won't be sitting down for a _month_ , _darling_..." you hiss.

I feel shocked - what - what was happening?

A small tug at the edge of the crowd, then it's gone -

I move back to the table, where two boys are just about to sit down.

"Off," I growl, then pull your chair out as they scatter.

_I yank the chair out of your grasp, and sit down. Then I throw the bags of churros on the table and tilt my head towards the chair._

_“Sit your arse down, Moran. And explain to me what just happened. You have one minute,” I drawl, and cross my legs with far more ease than I’m feeling._

_You just stare at me, stunned._

_I lean forward on my elbows. “Who was that silly creature and Why. The Fuck. Were. You. Following. Forty-five seconds...” I hiss._

What - just happened. Who was that girl?

 _She needs me!_ I am halfway towards getting up and running after her when I realize that that would be a _very_ stupid move indeed.

 _Now_ , Sebastian.

I _can't_!

A flurry of emotions. A sense of time, wasted. A hook. A shrug. A scribble in a book.

And it's gone.

I look at you, eyes wide.

What the fuck happened?

Whatever it was, you better say something _fast_ , or he's going to explode. He looks about ready to grab the plastic knife someone left on the table and see if he can't use it to gut you.

"I - I'm sorry, I don't know what happened. I think I'm still a bit - a bit - affected, by whatever it was that caused that - memory loss."

_I stare at you, coldly assessing._

_You seem in a daze, and not in the way one might be because of a symmetrical face and a piece of tail in a flouncy skirt._

_Besides. *I'm* here._

_That's the only part of the equation that's relevant._

_If you're in a daze it is *not* because of Chickypoo in yellow._

_Not when you're here with the embodiment of *Fuck*, dripping off this chair, and staring at you like I could burn your clothes off with a *look*._

_And I know this down to my bones..._

_the unknown bint is either utterly inconsequential..._

_*or*_

_...of serious fucking consequence._

_I send a quick text to Steve - we may be able to co-opt the feed from CCTV long enough to get a read on her. Or security that's been tailing us can be dispatched to follow her._

_Either way - my focus is on you now._

_You're wide-eyed, almost pleading for an understanding of what's happening to you._

_"Alright, Sebastian..." I sigh. "Something strange *is* going on. And I'm going to get to the bottom of it..."_

_I hand you your bagged churro. "Eat this. It will be grounding..."_

_I open up my own churro, and take a delicate bite. "But Sebastian..." I say, chewing and swallowing. "I'm not a patient man. I wouldn't suggest testing my limits again..."_

I chew the sweet doughy thing mechanically. I’m not hungry.

“I’m sorry, Jim. I’m not sure what’s happening. I’ll be alright...”

I _think_. But - I never abandon my mission. And you’re my mission now. What made me want to follow that girl? I’ve never seen her before in my life - or have I? Is she someone I recognized subconsciously? But - I hardly noticed her face, there’s a vague picture in my head of a tanned skin and black hair, but it was not recognition...

 _Enough_ , Moran. You have a new job and you’re already messing up. _Focus_ , soldier. If you’re going to be swanning off while you’re supposed to be security... you’ll not be security for long. You’ve already shown that you can’t be trusted; don’t make it worse.

I perk up, look around the square, see one of your other guys to one end, nothing of note otherwise. I turn my attention back to you.

You are back on your phone, typing out a lightning-quick message.

You don’t seem the type for small talk. Fortunately, neither am I. I don’t like it when people feel every silence needs to be filled.

I eat another bite from my churro, but the empty calories do nothing for me. You’ve already finished yours. It’s clear what all that gym equipment is for then.

_You don't seem to be enjoying your delicious dough, but you keep making half-hearted attempts to eat more of it. I roll my eyes, and snatch it from you._

_"Fuck's sake. Don't eat it if you're not enjoying it," I snap. "You'll hardly be sent to bed without supper..." I snatch it from you, and toss it overhand into a bin._

_As you watch it arc through the air and fall with a thump into the bin, you seem more impressed by my marksmanship than surprised at my actions._

_I'm struck by the sudden (and uncomfortable) realization that going out with you for drinks, dinner and churros had all the trappings of a date... if not the sentiment. (And it's gone *terribly*!!!) I've gone on dates before of course, when playing a role... generally they make me want to put a bullet in my brain to end my suffering. But I recognized that it was for a greater purpose, so it was worth the aggravation..._

_*This* feels different. I had no reason to go out for a night on the bloody town with you, other than to take care of the whole Lenny Horace issue, and see how you reacted to that. But taking you to Camden Market to share something I take pleasure in? What the fuck was that??_

_I stand up abruptly. "Get up, we're heading back," I say, sounding far more surly than I'd like. Then I start walking to where the car is waiting. I mean, I can be however bitchy *I want*._

_But this thing with the little canary you were captivated by has ruffled my own feathers far more than it should have - you couldn't *possibly* prefer fluffy yellow feathers to my sleek, iridescent black plumage??_

_*Fuck's sake*, Jimmy... that's already been ruled out! Why are you covering the same irrelevant ground?_

_I look back at you, and scowl. "Are you coming, Moran? Or have you decided an exciting life of crime is not for you after all?"_

You seem rather irritated. Is it because of the girl? Or the churros?

Who knows. At least I am still invited back.

My cock perks up at the possibilities of that. Remembering the wardrobe. Remembering your cock in my mouth. Your words, stating you had other plans...

In the car you pointedly look at your phone, messaging, scrolling, swearing, scowling, finally throwing it onto the seat, but staring out the window rather than at me. As we arrive back at your apartment, I carry my bag upstairs, leave it in the hall, for now. I'm not sure if you have a spare room; if you'll want me to stay there - what you'll want me to do here, anyway - I've done 24/7 bodyguarding gigs before; most people want you to sleep outside their rooms - but then most people don't cut you up and fuck you as part of the job. Usually I just try to be non-obtrusive, follow orders, assess security risks.

You flop onto the sofa. "Mine's a rum and coke. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge or the drinks cabinet."

See, that usually doesn't happen at bodyguarding jobs either. Mostly they want you to stay sober and not touch their alcohol collection.

The fridge is depressingly bare of any booze. There's coke, orange juice, some eggs, butter, and chocolate mousse, but no beers. Fortunately the drinks cabinet is very well stocked, with rum that's really way too fancy to mix with coke, and some delicious single malts. I pour myself a decent measure, hand you your drink, and sit down next to you.

_I sit sprawled out on the sofa, sipping my drink. You seem cautious... careful._

_Good. You should be._

_It was already a strange plan to begin with - taking on a pet with *issues* - but it was of course in your favour that you are *so* highly skilled at killing and the like._

_And Christ knows, you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever taken to my bed._

_But... now. Everything feels different now. Prone to wandering off after strange women? Not being able to explain yourself?_

_Daddy isn’t going to have the patience to deal with these little quirks... no matter how well you shoot people and suck cock._

_What to do with you, Sebastian..._

_I regard you as I put my glass down. “Let’s have a little talk, honey. What’s your best explanation for what happened back there? And don’t play ga-aa-ames with me,” I sing, waving my finger at you. “Because Daddy will *know*. And he *won’t* think it’s cute.”_

I push your finger away, irritated.

"I don't play games! I haven't given you any reason to assume I am playing games with you, have I?

I don't _know_ what's going on! I'm _fucking_ at a loss myself! Yesterday I shot my colleague - which is _not_ something I make a habit of! And I don't know _why_! I have no idea! My mind wasn't involved at all, it wasn't a conscious decision - it was like - like I was just a passive uncaring witness to events unfolding, like I was watching TV.

And then with this girl - again, I have no idea what happened. I had this - _urge,_ to follow her, like I needed to _do_ something, that she needed me, but it wasn't that I felt like I had to help - I'm not usually given to bouts of altruism - more like..." I struggle to verbalize what I felt, "like there was a script, and I _had_ to follow it, and not following it made the entire film collapse..."

I don't think I'm making much sense.

_I laugh softly, pleased by your reaction. You look surprised, and I pat your thigh._

_"Well, that's a bit more forthcoming than 'I’m sorry, Jim. I’m not sure what’s happening. I’ll be alright', I mimic your accent and dazed state perfectly._

_"And oh! So *spirited*, darling!" I crow. "And far less like a mopey, flaccid cock. I'm not looking for *apologies*. You didn't hurt my widdwe *feelings*..."_

_(Oh... didn't he?)_

_*Shut up*._

_"And I'm not looking for *reassurance* that you'll feel better soon! I'm looking for the *killer* I hired. With *murder* in his eyes." I wave my hand in front of your face. "Hello? Paging Sebastian Moran! Please report to the most dangerous man you'll ever meet, and *maybe*-" I jab your chest._

_"He can *help* you-"_

_*Jab*._

_"If you Stop. Feeling. Sorry. For. Yourself," I snap, jabbing repeatedly as I speak until you knock my hand away, eyes flashing._

_I fall back against the sofa, chuckling with delight. "*There* he is," I purr. "There's my beautiful *predator*... You want my help? Then wake the fuck up, Tiger. We have work to do..."_

Stop. Fucking. Poking me.

Oh, you want a tiger? _fine_... I guess you haven't really seen me in action, have you? You've seen me with a gun... but -

my hand lashes out, grabs your shirt, my other arm clasps around your back, we're upright, and I slam you against the wall. Not hurting you - but making it _very_ clear that I could.

"You may want to look down," I growl. I follow your gaze travelling downwards, to where my left hand has my knife a quarter of an inch from your skin.

"You may be the infamous Moriarty, but I could kill you without putting down my whisky. I don't because you fascinate me, you're the closest thing I got to a lead, I want to work with you, and you're a great fuck. But don't - push - me."

I pull the knife back and release you.

_I know something *delightful* is going to happen the moment I see it in your eyes. As I'm slammed against the wall, adrenaline shoots through me like sweet nectar._

_Fuck. Yes. Darling._

_Such *spirit*... I can do something *fun* with this..._

_I listen to your growling with a sly smile, and then you release me._

_I lean languorously against the wall as you step back. "My. Aren't we a surly beast..." I whisper, then grin and step forward towards you._

_"I've always wanted a lovely surly beast on a leash..." I say wistfully, tilting my head and scanning you._

_"One who only listens to me..."_

_I take another step forward, and trail my hand down your chest..._

_"One who does exactly as I say..."_

_My hand moves down your pelvis, and you breathe in deeply._

_"And why is that, Sebastian? Why does he roll on his back for me and expose his belly to a known predator? Because you know what he wants that more than a-a-anything...?"_

_My hand moves down and clutches your cock._

_Hard as a rock._

_Mmm-hmm..._

_"Because, honey. He *wants* to be mine. He *wants* to be owned," I murmur, stroking your cock. My face draws closer to yours, and my voice lowers. "I *know* you won't kill me, darling - but it's not because I'm fascinating. Or a lead. Or a mastermind. Or a great fuck. You think any one of those things is what draws you to me?" I laugh softly as I stare at you, feeling my eyes grow dark. "No. What draws you to me is what *I AM*..."_

_I lean forward and move my hand around your neck._

_"And to you, I'm the One who holds the leash."_

_I brush my lips against yours, squeezing your throat gently._

_"Enough of this. Be naked for me..." I whisper._

_I gaze up at you through half-closed eyes._

_"Kneel, Sebastian."_

...

No-

 _No_ , you're wrong, I'm -

\- strong and -

... stuff...

My mind is trying to formulate a rebuffal, my hand twitches, wanting to slap your hand away, but -

_those eyes_

My knees start to move.

Half my brain is swearing at them to stand _up straight_ , soldier, the other half of my brain is offline. There is no way, no possibility I could disobey, and what the fuck, Moran, you've never been so keen on following orders -

but this -

_You were trying to show him not to mess with you!_

He's not messing... he's...

my knees touch the floor. I look up at you.

You smile. I pleased you.

Immense satisfaction. Desire to please more.

_What the fuck are you *doing*, soldier!?!_

... what I was born to do...

_I smile down at you, eyes gleaming. My hands gently cup your face._

_“Strip,” I order. “I don’t like repeating myself, Sebastian. But you can make it up to me by doing it niiice and slow...”_

_I walk to the sofa and throw myself onto it, legs over the armrest. I pick up my glass and bury my smile in my drink._

I - yes, you said be naked - but then you also said kneel - how could I have -

_not your problem._

No. My problem.

When you demand the impossible, it's up to me to do it.

Because that's what I excel at. And that's why you chose me.

I look at where you're lounging on the sofa, having your drink, looking at me expectantly.

I lick my lips, move my hands to the hem of my shirt, slowly move it up, over my head, let it fall to the floor.

You look pleased. Good.

My fingers unbutton my trousers, then unzip my fly, push them down to my knees. Lift first one knee, then the other, pushing the legs down to my calves, then move them over my feet, taking my socks along.

Finally I move my thumbs to the waistband of my underpants, push them down, pass the knees again, off the legs.

And there I am. Stripped.

I have my dog tags - but I never take them off -

No, you look pleased, I have done well.

I kneel, naked, my cock erect.

Yours.

_Oh you... gorgeous... man..._

_As I stare at you shucking your clothes I realize it's not just your physical beauty that captivates me._

_Even though the sight of your muscled body disrobing is making me hard, and I have to stop myself from fidgeting as I watch you..._

_No, it goes deeper than your masculine form, so tall and hard and graceful..._

_Deeper than your fucking beautiful face, and those blue eyes staring at me so longingly..._

_No. What captivates me is what was just established here... which we had a delicious taste of this morning, and now everything has become crystal fucking clear._

_You could kill me. Or hurt me terribly._

_But you would *never* kill me._

_Never hurt me._

_No matter what._

_Because you're a true soldier, but not like you thought you were..._

_You're an elite warrior at the top of the world, who's been looking for someone *worthy* of giving you orders. Someone who points you at danger, and asks for bloody mayhem..._

_And you've *found* him, darling..._

_The only one at the top of the fucking world who is worthy of your lethal charms... The criminal mastermind who walks in the shadows..._

_now joined by a Tiger._

_"Mmm. Beautiful..." I murmur._

_I stand and stretch. "It's been a long day, darling. I'm going to bed..."_

_I smile slowly as I walk towards the staircase, slowly pulling off pieces of clothing and discarding them. Jacket. Shirt. I don't look back but I know you're still kneeling._

_Halfway up the stairs, I call back, "Care to join me, Tiger?" and continue walking towards my bedroom._

_Once I'm in, my trousers go flying out the door._

I'm staring at you in a daze.

The M in my back burns as I kneel for you, naked, open. A small part of me rails, kicking against my brain, telling me to stop being a fucking idiot, to punch you and walk out the door. Or at least stand up, put on pants, and say that I'd prefer to keep the relationship professional.

But it's too late. Much too late.

It was too late this morning, when you carved yourself into my skin.

It was too late yesterday, when I killed my mate for you.

I'm yours. I've always been yours.

I just didn't know until now.

Your gorgeous body is revealed as you walk off, and you casually call me, like a man whistling for his dog, confident that it will come running.

But I'm not a dog...

I'm a Tiger.


	5. As Good a Death as Any

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am changeable, yes. It is like this. A hummingbird's wings beat so fast he seems to fly standing still. Atoms in the rock whirl about, yet the rock holds together. Lions roar in the temple and the earth trembles. It is only yesterday and tomorrow keeping watch over today. The solid earth like a baby is lifted up to be kissed, to be blessed and set down again. I see things other men don't see. Secret words repeated in mirrors, bits of legend fallen from the lips of slave girls. I gather the greater seed as they thresh their wheat. I am an old priest dancing the mad dance, whirling, whirling, whirling.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, Chapter I. Translation Normandi Ellis.

_I’m down to my pants, and scrolling through my phone to find the right playlist._

_I hit Play, throw the phone onto the bedside table. I glance at myself in the mirror as I pass - perfection. Then I get onto the bed, and position the cuffs on the headboard just so - gleaming metal, good, stiff leather - and flop against the pillows, sighing with the pleasure of anticipation._

_Where is that Tiger at?_

As I approach the bedroom, an electronic beat sounds, a dissonant voice singing out over it.

_I could corrupt you_

_In a heartbeat_

_You think you're so special_

_Think you're so sweet_

_What are you trying_

_Don't even tempt me_

_Soon you'll be crying_

_And wishing you'd dreamt me_

Depeche Mode? Of _course_ you like dark electronic...

You're lying on the bed, in the light of a bedside lamp, your eyes hidden, beaming out their darkness, and I find myself standing there, my tongue running over my lips, staring, caught in the gaze like a deer in headlights.

_You'll be calling out my name_

_When you need someone to blame_

_You've stopped in the doorway, looking frozen - like you just stumbled into a wolf's den. And just realized how fucked you are._

_And also._

_Like you've just spotted the wolf and can't tear your eyes away from this majestic creature._

_This majestic creature who's going to tear into you, and you know there's nothing you can do about it, so you remain transfixed._

I can corrupt you

It would be easy

Watching you suffer

God, it would please me

_I crook my index finger, and make a come-hither gesture. You obey, nearly stumbling and then walking slowly towards the bed._

_God the sight of that beautiful naked body coming towards me..._

_I smile, and point to the floor at the foot of the bed._

_You look at me questioningly, and oh you're *so sweet* I could just eat you up with cream..._

_I snap my fingers and drawl, "Back on your knees, darling."_

_You obey again, and I crawl towards you, gracefully and feline-seductive._

_From the floor you stare up at me in awe, and I can't help myself - I lean down and kiss you._

_How *unlike* me. But god, your lips... how you kiss back longingly - with a hint of urgency, barely kept in check._

I wanna touch you with my hands on your hips

It would be too much to

Place my lips on your lips

You'll be calling out my name

Begging me to play my games

_I break off the kiss and we stare at each other. Then I grab the back of your head, pull you forward and kiss you again fervently._

I'm on my knees on the floor and you're crawling towards me on the bed like a sleek black panther, ready to pounce on his prey - and then you kiss me.

I melt, almost moan, at the feeling of your tongue demanding entrance, and kiss back with everything I have in me, wanting to feel this, every bit, every aspect of this. You pull back, almost amazed, and dive back - my head pulled back by the hair, your mouth on top of mine, penetrating, claiming, and I give so willingly.

The music winds down and a new track starts.

_I'm going to take my time_

_I have all the time in the world_

_To make you mine_

_It is written in the stars above_

_The gods decree_

_You'll be right here by my side_

_Right next to me_

_You can run, but you cannot hide_

_Hmm... I’m liking you here on the floor beneath me. I come up for air, and gaze down at you for a moment before pulling you back by the hair._

_I leave you there, and go to grab the cuffs from the drawer of the bedside table, along with lube. I move around you, observing your striped flesh, your bandaged wound with the red stain. A little too soon to whip you, perhaps - or I’d be heading back to the wardrobe for other implements._

_But strangely, with you I don’t feel the same inclinations as with the nameless faceless others of my past. With them it would have been pointless to do anything without whipping or caning or cutting, so they just would have had to take it, whether they were raw and bleeding or not._

_With you... apparently I’m being a little more... considerate? Or is it just that I don’t want to damage your beautiful body too much?_

_well... let’s just see how this goes..._

Don't say you're happy

Out there without me

I know you can't be

'Cause it's no good

_I move towards you, cuff your hands behind your back._

_Mmm. Already feeling the anticipation building..._

_I lean over your shoulder, and kiss you heatedly, nipping your lip as I pull away._

When will you realize

Do we have to wait 'til our worlds collide

Open up your eyes

You can't turn back the tide

_I get back onto the bed, and sit with my legs open in front of you._

_Then I yank your head towards my cock._

I can't wait to see what's going to happen - how are you going to follow up this morning? How _could_ you ever follow up this morning?

I think of the items in the wardrobe, and little Seb shivers at the thought - but I don't see how you could unleash again without letting me heal -

Anyway, it's up to you. I'm yours. You said so.

And it's all I want to be. I want to surrender, want to feel you, whatever you do - pain, pleasure, using my body - as long as it's you.

My hands are cuffed behind my back and again you kiss me, and it feels even better when I'm tied down, my head arched back, my body naked and exposed for you.

Oh - your cock...

I _like_ your cock. It's been very very nice to me so far.

Kneeling on the floor, my hands cuffed behind my back, my hair in a firm grip, a beautiful cock in my mouth...

I'm in fucking _heaven_.

Come with me

Into the trees

We'll lay on the grass

And let the hours pass

_“Oh... *very* good, Sebastian...” I whisper, and my head drops back._

_You have a very talented mouth and I will put it to good use, my dear..._

_I hear my breath hitch, and then a moan escapes my lips._

_God. I don’t usually respond like this to -_

_“*Fuck*-“ I breathe, and twist my hand in your hair, bringing your head closer._

_“God...”_

_No. Not yet. This is not just about pleasure; I need to possess you fully and completely._

_I pull your head off my cock._

_“You’re almost *too* good at cocksucking, Tiger... if such a thing were possible... ” I remark, my voice breathy. “I’m not through with you yet, honey...” I chide, holding your chin in my hand as if you’ve done something untoward._

_I grin to myself as I get up. I’ve raised being unreasonable from a foible to a bloody art form._

Let me see you

Stripped down to the bone

Let me see you

Stripped down to the bone

_I jerk my chin towards the bed. “Up. On your knees, back from the pillow.” I snap my fingers. “Now.”_

I nearly whine as my head is pulled off. Aw? I was enjoying that.

But no - there's more to come. And I'm all for that - much as I like cocksucking, I do love attention from you - painful though it may be...

On the bed, on my knees. I can do that.

I climb on, kneel down, facing the headboard, four inches from the pillow.

What are you going to do? Fuck me again? I would love that - fuck, I really would...

I am hungry for cock at the best of times, but usually not this desperate - it's more about getting off, and making sure my partner has a good time in the process. With you it's so different - yes, I'm horny, yes, I want to come, but - what I want most is to feel you take your pleasure from me.

_I get behind you, yank you further back by the hips. Then I trail a finger down your back, pressing down over your bandage. You gasp and jump. I grin, and push my finger into your upper back, guiding you where I want you, pushing you down with your cheek on the pillow._

_I open the cuffs, and then fasten them to a hook in the headboard with your arms in front of you, as if you’re worshipping something. Well, some*one*. Only he’s behind you._

_Caressing your back. Digging his nails into your skin, leaving bloody streaks._

_Fondling your arse. Fingering you with lube, making you tighten. Shiver. Relax._

_“Open,” I whisper, and slide in another finger firmly._

Oh god I'm trembling with desire and lust and pleasure -

\- because someone is scratching my back open. And I'm tied to a hook, my cheek flat on the pillow, helplessly displayed before him.

Fuck. I knew I had submissive tendencies, but I had no idea I was so keen to have my body hurt and mutilated -

\- but then I don't think I could do this with anyone else. I just wouldn't be able to - it takes such a high level of respect and devotion - and I've never felt that for anyone. But _you_ \- you are - fuck, I don't know what it is about you. But I just want to fall to my knees the moment you look at me. And you put your finger on that with frightful accuracy - after not even knowing me for a day.

I moan as you slide inside me, order me to open up for you - force my muscles to relax.

_“Mmm... better...” I murmur, moving my fingers inside you in a slow, sensual, possessive manner - circling one way and then the other._

_You make a low pleased sound in your throat._

_“Like that, Sebastian?” I slide in a third finger, and you breathe in deeply._

_Your muscles squeeze against me - not resisting, but *responding*._

_Fuck, that’s hot... I gaze at your submissive posture, running my hand over your lower back and arse, cupping a cheek._

_“Such a beautiful body... and all mine...” I purr, continuing to move my fingers, stretching you out for me. “Well, there will be plenty of time to play with it as I like...”_

_I withdraw my fingers, and position myself._

_“But for now...”_

_I gently prod at your entrance, and then push the head of my cock into you. You moan, and I smile._

_“Mmm. I’m taking my Tiger for a ride...”_

_I push in further, and feel your muscles squeezing and fluttering against me. The play of resistance and surrender is absolutely exquisite, and I exhale as I push in deeper._

_“Fuck... you feel amazing...” I groan, and surge into you fully._

Oh god, yes, _yours_...

You are so right - I've never felt anything as certainly as I do this - _yours_.

I thought I had lost my life's purpose when I was chucked out of the Regiment - but it was the step required to arrive here, in your bed, however I got there - this is where I'm supposed to be. On my knees, pierced by your cock.

You push in, demanding, claiming, and I do my best to relax, to surrender -

And then you say I feel amazing, and I am floating on air.

_“God...Sebastian...” I sigh as I start to thrust into you._

_Ok. You can sound a little less like a lovelorn schoolgirl, Jimmy. Fuck..._

_You just dominated and chained up a hot, beautiful SAS soldier..._

_who you’ve already whipped and cut and carved your initial into..._

_he’s ready to do whatever you say, obey any whim or order..._

_you’re buried in his arse and you’re fucking him raw..._

_is now the time to come off all breathless and swept away by the dreamy soldier boy?_

_*No.*_

_So...? You’re the Boss, *act like it*._

_I run my fingers through your hair, and then pull your head back. “You don’t come, Sebastian. Not without my express approval. *If* you receive the word, enjoy the pleasure I’ve allowed you. If not...” I lean in over your shoulder. “Then you’ll enjoy the pleasure of following my desires. Do you understand?”_

_I yank your hair as I thrust into you deeply. “*Do* you, Tiger?”_

The sounds you make as you are fucking me are pouring into my ears like the gods' own nectar. You're fucking me, yes, you're showing your ownership of me, _yes_ , but this is affecting you a lot; you're not just showing me who's boss, you're _loving_ this...

... making me love it even more. I groan.

You pull my head back, oh _god_ yes, and tell me not to come, nearly making me come with how fucking _hot_ that is...

Pull my hair, thrust into me - _fuck_ -

"Yes -" I pant, breathless - "Yes, Sir - I understand -"

_I groan against my own express order not to make unnecessary noise. But really... is this a performance, or is it sex? I already have your submission - so now what’s the point of doing this if not for my pleasure??_

_Which is such a paradigm-smashing thought for me, I actually feel myself tremble under the weight of this moment._

_Pleasure._

_It’s always been about *control* for me._

_But you’ve given me surrender like nobody else._

_Leaving me free to feel pleasure like I’ve never known before..._

_My hands move down to your hips and I grasp them possessively._

_“Good Tiger...” I pant, pulling your hips towards me as I fuck you. My head falls back and I moan softly._

Good Tiger...

Those words make me glow.

Fucking hell Moran, are you _sure_ you're not his dog?

But - it's so fucking _hot_ to be owned like this, _completely_ , unconditionally...

and I felt that even this morning - I didn't even know your _name_. But I did feel your strength... I mean, I'm strong - physically - even mentally; not so much lately, but definitely have more will power than most. But _you_ \- you could make statues kneel. Stones bleed.

I moan as you thrust into me again and again, your fingers grasping my hip, and it's so hot to just be used... you don't care about my pleasure, I am here for yours, and you are taking it, claiming it, demanding it, because it is your _right_...

I groan.

_I’m getting closer and closer... with each thrust... to the moment of pleasure that suddenly is all I want, all I desire..._

_There are no more thoughts of the world, or plans, or domination, or *anything*..._

_Just this beautiful body laid bare for me, this soldier surrendering to me, giving me the ultimate pleasure I had unconsciously been seeking all this time..._

_I feel burning ecstasy rising as I thrust harder and sweet, slick friction of my cock lodged into your arse... deeper and deeper..._

_faster and faster..._

_shivering I cry out..._

_and my body thrusts mindlessly into you... my head thrown back, my back arching..._

_oh god oh god..._

_I feel my seed pulsing into you rhythmically, and I moan with the insane pleasure of it all... and I feel myself floating..._

_falling..._

_collapsing..._

_And I blink as I find myself lying against your back, damp with sweat... and oddly enough, I don’t mind._

_I just sigh and turn my cheek against your skin, and close my eyes._

_Your strong, warm body underneath me feels safe... secure..._

_‘sanctuary,’ I hear myself whisper inside my mind, but I brush this thought aside._

_“Mmm... I should have got myself a Tiger a long time ago...” I pant. “Guess I’ll keep you, pet...” I murmur and tousle your hair, feeling strangely affectionate._

You're riding me, riding me to the abyss, there's no turning back now, Jim Moriarty... the name sounds so beautiful, I long to say it, feel the shape of it on my lips.

I can feel you teetering on the edge and going over, majestically, magnificently, shivering, crying out, your fingers digging into my hips as you thrust and thrust and I'm filled with a hot pressure as your body shocks into me. A moment of absolute stillness, and then you gasp, shudder, deflate down, until you lean on my back, breathing shallowly, coming to rest with a contented sigh.

I hold you up. I could hold you up for ever, you could sleep like this, and I would remain still, supporting you, relishing the feel of your cheek on my back, listening to your rhythmic breathing.

But you stir back to life, ruffling my hair, calling me your pet... and instead of making me bristle, it fills me with a glow of pride.

God, Moran, you got it good...

_I stay on your back for a few moments more, luxuriating in how *good* this feels._

_*Should* it feel this good? my omnipresent inner voice asks me accusingly._

_I roll my eyes. *Fuck off. I can handle it...*_

_Mmm. I'll remind you of that when you're arguing over china patterns, the voice responds with a long-suffering sigh. God, what a thought... Jim Moriarty having a domestic crisis._

_*Do you see any sign of a domestic crisis?* I snap._

_You've invited the handsome solider boy to move in with you after one day, the voice responds drily. You're due for a domestic crisis in the next *week*, I'll wager..._

_Irritated, I push off from my cosy position, and lean over your body to uncuff you. Fucking hell, I mutter to myself. Can't relax for a bloody moment without the sky falling..._

_"The Tiger is set free," I say in a lazy voice. "But not unleashed as long as you're with me. You'll remember that, won't you darling..."_

_You groan and roll over carefully, murmuring assent._

_I flop next to you. "Excellent," I purr, stretching out. "Now get us some water, Tiger..."_

... should I direct your attention to my rather magnificent erection?

Or might that be seen as insubordination?

Well, you'll see it - I'll get you your water first, you're bound to notice it when I walk back towards you.

I roll my shoulders, get up, walk down to the kitchen and get two glasses of water, head back up. Make sure to say that "Here's your water," when I walk in, so you look up, and can't miss little Seb's eager perkiness, hoping for a share in the joy.

Surely you can't deny me an orgasm after the one you had...

I sit down on the bed, hand you a glass, take a sip of mine and put it on the bedside table, lying back against the pillows, erection clearly in view in case you'd missed it the first time.

_I take the glass from you, sip delicately._

_Look at you staring at me hopefully._

_I stare back, nonplussed. "If you're hungry or want something stronger than water..." I say with a small smile. "Help yourself to whatever you need..."_

_I take another sip of water, all innocence._

Oh, _really_!?

Well - there's only one way to find out if this is going too far...

I grab the glass from your hand, put it on the bedside table, push you down onto the bed, kissing your neck, rubbing my cock against you.

_I have to stifle a laugh at how quickly you respond._

_Desperate, aren't you? Oh we *are* going to have fun with you, Tiger..._

_"What *do* you think you're doing, Sebastian?" I say in a low, dangerous purr._

_I grab your wrists, and quickly roll you underneath me. I know you *allow* it. But I also know I have all the power here._

_And that you *love* it..._

_I stare down at you, feeling my eyes gleaming at you._

_"Is that what you think? That you can just grab what you want, rub against me like an animal?"_

_Inside I'm sniggering, but I maintain my indignant demeanour._

_I lower my hand and grasp your cock. Your body jerks, and your breath catches in your throat._

_"This beautiful - majestic cock..." I say breathily. "Oh, I'm sure it's used to getting what it wants with a wink and a smile.. but it's going to have to be on its best behaviour around here..."_

_I start to wank you, making you moan._

_Then I slap you hard._

_Then I kiss you harder._

You're on top of me, and looking at me, but that's a good look, not a 'how dare you' look, more a 'you're going to enjoy this but proper form needs to be maintained' look.

And then your hand moves to my cock, which has been _so on edge_ -

Stroking - oh god - I close my eyes, but then -

\- a _slap_ \- what -

a kiss -

well - you certainly are versatile, Jim Moriarty... but as long as that hand remains on my cock, you can slap me all you like...

You pull back from the kiss, look at me. I wink and smile.

_Jaisus... I can see how that charm would allow you access to a lot of willing partners..._

_But I am no pushover, dearest..._

_I shake off the dreamy effect of the hot blue-eyed soldier smiling at me._

_Then I raise your hands over your head, snap them into the cuffs hanging from the headboard._

_I wrap one hand around your throat and continue to wank you with the other hand._

_I wink and smile, and then slowly tighten my grip with each hand._

Oh - I’m bound again and arching my back with delight at the sensation on my cock, and then your hand lands on my throat.

You wink and the pressure increases.

I look into your eyes, and I see it. The razor’s edge.

You’ve done this before. And not everyone survived the experience.

You’re feeling it, that power of life and death, and relishing it.

My self-preservation instinct, despite everything well-developed, screams at me, supported by my training. Get _out_ , soldier. Pull out of these restraints and fucking _run_ as far as you can -

I don't. I look you in the eyes, as the edges of my vision decrease.

You won't. You want to know that you can. But you won't.

I hope.

_I continue wanking you merrily as my hand grips your throat. I'm pressing down hard enough to bring you to the brink of passing out, but am able to ease off as I wish. I'm not looking to end up with a dead soldier in my bed... I'm not finished with you yet._

_And anyway... you're the most delightful plaything I've had in a good long while... t'would be a shame to stop this joyride..._

_speaking of joyrides... you're gasping hoarsely around my fingers, eyes wide and unfocused, muscles trembling..._

_mmm... this is going to be a good one. I'm almost envious..._

_I lean over you so my face is burned into your consciousness, even when your vision goes hazy._

_"Now approaching final destination, Tiger..." I croon. "Enjoy the ride..."_

_Staring at you with fascination, I stroke you harder and faster._

I'm seeing spots, black spots, around your black eyes; and my cock is being stroked _so_ expertly...

I hope you'll let go in time, but for now I am not too fussed to be honest. I am pretty sure you want to keep me around.

_Sebastian -_

_\- oh for fuck's sake._

Oh god that feels _good_... you are perfect, just perfect... you know exactly how I like it, exactly when to increase speed - oh - _god_ -

Pressure increases both on my throat and on my cock and I can't cry out but I do make some strangled sound as my balls contract and my seed presses itself upwards - oh - _fuck_...

_Mmm-hmm..._

_God, that looks... so fucking hot..._

_Maybe I should get you to do this for me some time, I think idly. But I need to know you for longer than a day before I put my life in your hands like this..._

_But *your* life in my hands..._

_oh. Riiight._

_Let go of the pretty soldier’s throat, Jimmy... we’re going to play with him some more, remember?_

_I release my grip, and stare at you. You’re not quite there, are you..._

_I raise my hand and slap you hard._

_“Sebastian,” I call out sharply. “Wakey wakey!”_

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuuuuuuuckkkk_...

So good so good oh _god_ -

It seems my pleasure is being pulled out from my _toes_ , and your hand is still on my throat and I'm getting distinctly light-headed, oh god -

Finally your hand moves, leaving me free to breathe, oxygen rushed to the brain by concerned blood cells, making me giddy -

_slap_

What the _fuck_ \- will you _stop_ slapping me?! My hand moves to punch you back, but is held back by restraints, probably fortunately.

"'malright - sheesh -"

_I watch as waves of ecstasy cross your face..._

_followed by a surge of anger..._

_your hand bunches into a fist..._

_before clanking against the bedframe, held firmly in place by the cuffs..._

_And then come indignant mutterings..._

_I roll my eyes._

_“Are you quite done, Tiger?” I say, mildly reproving. “Or shall I leave you in restraints for the night? A chained tiger at the foot of my bed would be *so* aesthetically pleasing." I run my hand along your chest, and scratch at your nipple, making your body jerk._

_"Or I could have a lovely cage constructed if you can’t control yourself?” I yawn._

_You mumble again that you’re alright._

_I regard you, naked and restrained in my bed - your tall muscular frame so pleasing to the eye... the head of your pretty cock glistening with seed._

_I glance at my hand, sticky with your pleasure. I wipe it with a tissue, then I unfasten your restraints._

_"You're a mess," I say in a lazy voice. "I'm taking a shower - you can either join me or wait until I'm done.”_

_I get up gracefully and wander towards the bathroom. Feeling your eyes on my naked body, I smile._

Holy fuck. That was - something else. Again.

So - I meet a handsome stranger, and within a day he's whipped me like no one ever has, cut his initial into me, had me suck his cock in front of his men, fucked me twice, and nearly choked me.

It's definitely my lucky day.

Revived by the oxygen, I get up and follow you into the shower. I yelp as the scalding hot water touches my skin.

_"So *dramatic*, Tiger," I chide, my eyes closed as the water streams over me. "Here - I'll turn it down *a little*, your Lordship..."_

_I open my eyes to adjust the temperature and glance back at you. You're staring at me aghast, and I remember something from your file which had tickled me._

_"Ah, yes - Lord Moran's disappointing brat of an heir," I chuckle. "Dropping out of Oxford, joining the army, and sticking it into anything that moves - and enjoying being on the receiving end, no less - Augustus must have *loved* that..."_

_I grab the shampoo bottle and open it. "Oh relax, honey... despising your father and wanting him dead is one of the first steps to being an actualized criminal..." I pat your cheek._

_Then I pour a small pool of shampoo into my hand, the scent of jasmine and spice wafting up over us. "Turn around."_

Good grief - the water is _boiling_. How do you just _stand_ there?

You bring up my dad, which does nothing to cool me down. I carefully stay on the periphery of the spray, not daring to venture into the full lava flow. Tutting, you pick up the showerhead and spray the water onto my head. I hiss but it's bearable - just.

You return the shower to its perch and put your hand on top of my head, a cool tingling sensation on my skull as you are rubbing sweetly-scented shampoo into my hair.

Ahh... that's nice... much nicer than talking about dads. From the tone of your voice, there's no love lost between you and yours either - but why ruin a perfectly pleasant postcoital shower by discussing wastes of space...

_As I rub shampoo into your scalp, humming soothingly, you're practically purring in response. I look down at your arse, wet and brightly striped, and feel pride in my work. Not just in the whipping and work with the knife, but also - getting you onto your knees so beautifully. God, I've never had an experience like this with *anyone* - nor can I imagine ever having this with anyone else._

_*What*...?_

_I pause in my rubbing and you make a questioning noise, and look back. I turn your head forward and rinse off the foamy liquid. Then I dump conditioner into my hand, and work it through your wavy hair._

_And once again you're purring away as I lather you up._

_Don't get carried away, Jimmy... you've known him for a day. Let's see how long the novelty lasts before we declare our undying psychopathic love._

_I stare uneasily at the bandage on your back - it's wet and blood is seeping through. I'll have to check it, clean and dress it again. I think back to carving my initial into your flesh... it was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. So why is it making me feel so... disconcerted?_

_"Now you do me," I say, pushing the shampoo bottle against your back._


	6. The Ways of Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no creation without destruction. To make the pot to carry water, the river must give up its clay. To make the child, the father must give up his seed. To make love, one gives up the self. Creation is death. Sex is death. All the ways of making are sacrifice. So bit by bit those who create murder themselves.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, Chapter XVII. Translation Normandi Ellis.

Rrrrrrmmrrrrrprrrrrr... I don't think tigers purr, do they? A shame... I would if I could. Your dexterous fingers massaging my scalp, making me smell and feel nice...

A bottle against my back; an order. Alright.

You turn and I squirt some of the stuff from the expensive-looking bottle into my hand, then spread it through your hair. It's an incredibly sensual sensation to do this... your hairs so silky and smooth, sliding through my fingers as I massage the lather in, making sure I cover every bit of your head, the sleek liquid running down your neck and back, so perfect... I can't resist putting my arms around you and pulling you against my chest, feeling the slick skin against mine.

_This hair washing starts out as a test - to see how you’ll react, how you’ll do..._

_You’re game enough to start, and then - you get *so* into it, as if my hair and the shampoo are the only things in the world - they and your fingers, which I should have known would be dexterous and amazing because of your skillset. But then, I’ve also known some ham-fisted soldiers and assassins... and nothing gets my hackles up like men who think that their Y-chromosome gives them license to not employ any finesse... or brains. Like the urge to present as manly is a free pass to say or do what they want without thinking._

_*Uh uh*._

_Men like this don’t have a good survival rate around me, unless they can adapt, and *fast*..._

_So when you pull me against you - well, here’s another test._

_It takes me a moment to react - because I had forgotten all about the ‘test’... I was actually relaxed and enjoying your ministrations as you massaged my scalp - but then suddenly I look down and see *arms* around me. I put my hands on your forearms and lift off one, then the other._

_“You seem to have misplaced something, Sebastian...” I say tartly. “You can have these back now.”_

Oh. No cuddling. Not even when your body is all slick and smooth from shampoo and crying out for a good soldier chest to rub against it.

Fair enough. Everyone has their hard limits, I guess.

I move my hands back to your scalp, rinse out the shampoo, massage in the conditioner, enjoying the bits of you that I _do_ get to touch.

When I've rinsed that out as well, you turn me around and rip the bandages off. I clench my teeth, shiver as the hot water touches the wounds.

_“Healing well,” I comment. “You’re going to have a work of art when it’s done...”_

_I squeeze out some liquid soap to clean myself, and hand you the bottle. When we’re both sparkly clean, I nudge you out of the shower and we dry off._

_When I’m in a plush black bathrobe and you’re wearing a towel around your waist, I order you to turn so I can clean and dress the wound. Some antiseptic lotion and barely suppressed wincing later (nice try, soldier boy), your wound is nicely bandaged up._

_I regard your strong back, the towel hanging loosely from your hips, and there’s a twinge of interest in my cock. Really? You *just* had him... calm yourself, darling..._

_“All done,” I say airily. “Now. There’s a discussion that needs to be had regarding tonight.”_

_With that, I return to the bedroom and remain in my robe as I sit cross-legged on my bed. It doesn’t much matter what I wear to bed - I already know I get changed before I go sleepwalking through the city._

_I pat the spot next to me. “Sit, Tiger.”_

_You do, looking questionably at me._

_“What do you know about somnambulism?”_

OK, this is getting weird... and it was already.

"Not a lot. Is that what you do? Is that why you don't remember meeting me yesterday? But - why don't I remember?"

_“What am I, the answer man? One bloody mystery at a time,” I say through gritted teeth._

_I run my hand through my hair and sigh. “As far as sleep specialists are concerned, that’s what I do. I prefer to reserve judgment, at least until all avenues are explored. And yes, that is why I don’t remember you, except from the bar. So tonight - you’re going to observe me and follow me. From a distance. You know how to be covert enough that you should be able to manage it - everybody else I’ve assigned this work to has failed me miserably...” I say, scowling._

"But - you're one of the top bosses in London. Surely you got the best people working for you. Why didn't they manage to follow you?"

This doesn't make sense. Are you having me on? You look deadly serious.

_“That’s an excellent question, Sebastian,” I say, feigning patience. “*And yet*... I haven’t been successful in finding out why they can’t follow me. Why the mere sight of me at night turns hardened criminals into gibbering children. Why the best doctors *in the world* slap a generic label on me, and can’t provide any treatment or advice other than ‘try to relax an hour before bedtime’. That is why I need *you*, darling... I trust you won’t turn tail and run at the sight of something scary?” I roll my eyes to hide the fact that I’m growing desperate for an answer. How long can I continue like this??_

"Well - no. But then neither would any other of your 'hardened criminals'. What do they say happens?"

You shrug. "Apparently I order them to back off, and in such a way that they inevitably do, even though I ordered them _before_ not to, and get mad at them the next day. I _trust_ I won't have to get _mad_ at you tomorrow, Sebastian."

I think about this. Is this - something that happens? Do you pick up lonely men, cut an M into them, and order them to follow you at night, only to kill them the next day if they fail?

But - why would I fail? It doesn't make sense. As for you ordering people to back off without them being able to resist - I'll just tail you without you noticing. That's something that I can do that those guys might not have been able to...

I ask about dinner, you shrug and tell me to look in the fridge, which won't be much help unless you fancy scrambled eggs on chocolate mousse, so we order pizza, which we eat in convivial silence, you on your phone, me continuing _The First Crusade_ , careful to use one hand for pizza and one hand for book.

It's getting late and I'm getting tired, but I can stay awake through tiredness. I make sure I'm dressed for tailing duty; black trousers, hoodie, gun and knives in my pocket.

_I glance at you appreciatively as you eat quietly while reading._

_A man after my own heart, I think before I catch myself in horror._

_..._

_*Pffft*. This somnambulism is *clearly* affecting my mind. That’s why it’s so good that you’re here to help me understand this little problem._

_And *yes*, that’s the only reason you’re still here. Otherwise, I would have fucked you, hired you, and left you in your flat._

_But I *need* you here at night to watch me._

_*Obviously*._

_I glance up from my phone surreptitiously._

_See you leaning back in your chair, your long legs crossed, your body relaxed... an assassin, dressed and ready for action..._

_Reading history, and stuffing pizza in his mouth..._

_that sensual mouth..._

_Bloody hot is what you are, Sebastian Moran..._

_And as soon as I wake up, I will have you underneath me again._

_God, I’ve already fucked him - very thoroughly - *twice*..._

_and I seem to only want him *more*..._

_What is that??_

_I realize I’ve stopped chewing, and I’m just staring at you openly._

_*Fucking swallow, you eejit*, I snap at myself._

_I do, and push the plate away from me._

_“I’ll be going to bed in a bit... It’s up to you where you wait...” I say, and sip my coke._

"Well, I guess in the bedroom would be best, so I can keep a close eye on what happens. I can use the chair in the corner so I don't risk falling asleep. Or would you feel more comfortable with me outside the room?"

_I consider this. “Inside the room is fine. Just don’t *stare* at me as I’m falling asleep. Bring a book. But turn pages *quietly*. And *don’t* react to what you’re reading with a gasp. Or a giggle. Or angry muttering. Think you can handle that?”_

"I'm pretty sure that there's nothing in _The First Crusade_ to make me gasp, giggle, or mutter. Or - do you have a Kindle or something? That way I can read without turning pages. And if you have one of those light-up ones I don't even need a reading light."

You nod, move to a drawer and get out a slick black e-reader. "Here you go. Order whatever you like."

 _The First Crusade_ is available but I don't like getting a book you already have. Also, if I need to stay awake all night, I'll probably want some lighter fare.

I order some high-rated thrillers, make a thermos of coffee, and settle in for the night. I'm not unused to night guard duty, and sitting in a comfortable chair with a good book and a supply of coffee is positively decadent. The staying awake bit is easy - what I wonder about is what will happen when you start sleepwalking.

You get dressed in grey silk pyjamas which make me contemplate how it would feel to run my hands over that smooth cloth, but I smile professionally and wish you a good night.

You mumble, "Good night, Tiger. Don't fuck up," and turn off the light.

I smile at your use of what's apparently become my nickname. I like it. I like it a lot.

Your breath grows even and deep, and pretty soon I'm quite sure that you're asleep. I look at my watch - 11:47.

I take a sip from the coffee, making sure I make no noise as I put the cup back down, and settle in to _The Poison Tree_.

It's an entertaining story, and well-written, but I keep finding myself nearly nodding off. What the _hell_ , Moran. What kind of soldier _are_ you? Is this your first sleepless night?

I get up quietly and do some silent squats to get the blood moving. It helps, but the moment I sit down I am drowsy again.

Fuck's sake. Keep standing then.

I pour some more coffee and stand up, looking at you sleeping in the bed.

I'm _so_ tired...

What the hell is wrong with me?!

My head sinks to my chest...

I leave your sleeping form on the bed and walk out of the room quietly, then out the front door.

The city is still awake, but in the late hours of the night, when she's either drunk or up to no good; usually both.

Some guys call for you in a fight, but I ignore them.

A lad stands on the Chelsea Bridge, looking forlornly at the water. Silently I stand next to him, light up a fag. He looks up, moves closer, wants to hug me. I shake my head and walk off.

An estate on the Prince of Wales road. I walk in, up three flights of stairs, to a small apartment. The living room is tidy, with old but clean furniture, illuminated by strips of orange light coming through the blinds on the window at the street side, and a glow from a door standing ajar at the other side of the room. I push it open, enter a lit bathroom.

On the radiator are white knickers, a bra that was white once but has greyed from being washed often, white socks, a blue dress with yellow sunflowers, and a yellow cardigan.

From the bath, the girl smiles, her mouth just above the red water.

"You've come..."

"Sorry I'm late," I reply, bending over her face as she closes her brown eyes and reaches up.

We kiss.

_When I rise, the room is empty._

_Of course it’s empty..._

_why wouldn’t it be?_

_Feeling perturbed, I dress._

_Dark suit. Skull tie pin._

_In the mirror, my eyes are nearly fully black. They gleam at me, and I walk to the door... down the stairs..._

_there’s an unfamiliar jacket on a chair._

_...?_

_out the front door..._

_whose jacket is-_

_*not important*_

_I walk out of the building..._

_into the darkness..._

_People pass by me, glancing at me with nervous eyes..._

_Some smile flirtatiously..._

_Some speak in anger. Their words dry up in their throats when I turn my gaze onto them._

_Some walk towards me, looking haunted... until I touch them. Then they walk away calmly, disappearing into mist._

_Some stare at me in horror and run away..._

_A man shrieks and goes tearing across a busy road... only to get hit by a lorry._

_I laugh, *silly thing*... and keep walking._

_I walk by an apartment complex, and find myself staring up at the window of a flat with a dim light. Do I need to-_

_No. It’s taken care of._

_*Someone new*..._

_I feel that strange ‘hooked’ feeling under my rib, and I pause._

_I leave my associates to do their work, and the work gets done._

_There are no mistakes about who is chosen._

_Why am I still waiting?_

I'm not surprised to find you on the pavement when I leave.

We walk down the road, to a park, where two men are arguing loudly. You go to talk to them, a flash of metal, and one of them turns and runs out of the park.

A nice house. A man jumps off a chair, wire tied to a hook in the ceiling that holds a pretty stained-glass lamp cuts into his neck, chokes him. I catch him as he falls.

A young boy, only fifteen, is choking on his vomit after he's taken all the pills in the house with most of a bottle of vodka. His eyes are wide and panicking when he sees us, until I kiss his mouth and ease his spasms.

"Shouldn't you have more than I?" I ask you, but you shrug, gesture at the dark city, visible below us. We're sitting on the roof of a high building. A man thought about joining me here, but decided against it. The view is magnificent though.

"There are others. I only go where it's interesting."

_I stare out at the city from the roof, enjoying the twinkling lights. I kick my legs as I sit, enjoying the night sky on my skin. I should leave the city like I used to, roam the world at night... then I could see actual stars._

_But I haven’t left London for a while now…_

_Why was that again?_

_I don’t remember..._

_Nights blend into each other..._

_‘Interesting‘ cases seem far less interesting the following night._

_The only interesting thing that’s happened as far back as I can remember is..._

_I turn to you._

_“You... killed a lot of people, didn’t you?” I say, my brow furrowed. “All over the world?”_

_You think for a moment and then nod. “I suppose I did...”_

_“I remember you...” I say in amazement. I don’t think you understand how *rare* that is._

_I stare at your darkening blue eyes._

Did I kill people?

Yes... but it seems so long ago. Like a dream.

It's not what I did tonight. I didn't kill anyone. I helped them.

It felt so different.

I look at you.

"I remember you too - but it wasn't here..."

Visions of you, in your immaculate suit, in the desert... in a bombed-out city... black eyes looking into mine...

_"No," I say, leaning back and raising my face up to the moon-drenched sky. "It was - everywhere..."_

_Then I hop up to my feet, and walk along the ledge, pretending to balance like a tightrope walker. I look down to the pavement, then back at you mischievously._

_"Death becomes you," I purr, and plummet down to the ground._

_From the pavement, I see you looking down at me in shock. Your face is pale, high above the ground._

_I give you a jaunty wave, and continue walking. There's an interesting one unfolding across town, but time is no matter for me. As I walk, I feel the hooked feeling under my rib growing more intense, and my brow furrows. *Why* does this keep happening?_

What are you -

OK. You can do that.

Others - can do that too. But I need to be there for them. To catch them. You can catch yourself.

I'm done for tonight. I walk through the park, where I see and hear whispers of a past and future - a rope from a tree, a promise of a weapon, a needle piercing a vein. A dance, dark and hidden.

I walk to a lovely penthouse, find a bed that seems welcoming, a chair that beckons. I choose the chair.

_I have a few more I could witness, souls to collect for the next realm..._

_I observe a crime boss get shot by his own second in command... and give a dying soliloquy worthy of Caesar on the Senate floor..._

_As I slow-clap, they turn to stare at me in shock._

_“Bravo,” I say, stifling a yawn. Subtle..._

_Then I leave to witness another criminal dying, this time at the hands of his crazy wife and her lover who belongs to a rival organization - but on my way I inadvertently bump into the wife who’s rushing home, slightly behind schedule to meet her lover - and she promptly falls down a staircase at Covent Garden station and hits her head._

_As people shout and rush towards her, I stand gawping before giggling madly at my faux pas. I mean, if the husband is meant to die... something will get him._

_Still. Not my finest hour._

_I realize something is off, and just leave the remainder for my associates. It’s not too busy a night, they can handle it..._

_When I return to the penthouse, I see the jacket still hanging off a chair in the living room._

_I pass by it with narrowed eyes, climb the stairs, and enter the bedroom. A man is in a chair - oh. *You*, I think in surprise before shedding my clothes and climbing into bed._

_When I close my eyes, darkness is swift._

I wake up. Light is coming into the room from underneath the curtains. I'm sitting in a chair.

_SHIT!!_

I shoot upright, see you lying in the bed, asleep - oh thank goodness is my first thought - but then I realize you're _not_ wearing the pyjamas you had on yesterday; they're on the floor - as well as a black suit, tie, and shirt.

 _Shit_. You've gone walkabout. And I fucking _fell asleep_.

 _How??_ I've had _years_ of training and experience. I do _not_ fall asleep when on guard. Not when I'm sick, not when I've been awake for 72 hours - what the fuck _happened_??

_I hear stirring, and my eyes fly open._

_*What*-_

_I stare at you in shock._

_You’re clearly just waking up, staring at me in a daze._

_An image of you on a rooftop is fading from my mind..._

_I must have been dreaming..._

_Wait - dreaming??_

_“Did I actually stay aslee-“ I stop short as I see a discarded suit on the floor._

_“Sebastian....” I say softly. “I’m *dying* to know what you saw last night...”_

Yes...

Dying...

One of us will be...

Oh god how do I tell you that your fucking brand new bodyguard, ex-SAS, on his _first_ job -

\- fell asleep??

I look around the room, but there's nothing I can do or say. There's nothing for it but to admit the truth.

"Nothing. I fell asleep."

_“Oh, that’s rather apparent...” I say in a chilly voice. “I’m not clear as to the reason why, however...? I was under the impression that you were a *professional*...”_

_I sit up and stroke my chin pensively. “Have industry standards changed, Sebastian? I let my subscription to 'Bodyguards and You' lapse, so I may not be up on current trends of shooting associates and falling asleep *on the job*!" I shout the last few words of that sentence in that particular way I have of letting someone know I am *not fucking happy*._

I cringe. You can shout all you like, it's less bad than the way I'm beating myself up inside.

What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, Moran?

First you go mental and shoot Geoff. Then you go and sleep with the enemy and forget all about it. Then you let the enemy cut you open and declare your undying loyalty to him, kill your old boss, and _then_ , when he has hired you against all evidence that there's a shred of worth in you, you _fall asleep_ on the first job he's set you.

I shake my head.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I've - I've clearly lost it."

I shrug.

"Everything."

_I glower at you, and prepare to throw a massive fit the likes of which you've never seen..._

_and then - something stops me. My guardian angel, if I had such a thing._

_My guardian demon?_

_My memory reminds me that the word was originally_ daemon _in classical mythology..._

 _derived from the Greek_ daimon _(_ δαίμων _, meaning god, or power or fate)..._

_and could refer to a guiding spirit._

_But then I don't believe in such things... so why am I thinking of that now??_

_I frown._

_Something isn't right..._

_"Sebastian..." I say slowly. "Has anything like this ever happened to you before?"_

_Looking guilty and rather upset, you give me a quick head shake._

_"Well... then maybe this is the same thing that happened to my other security. You didn't go catatonic or turn tail and run, you just... fell asleep."_

_I sigh. "So I'm not closer to figuring this out. *FUCK!*" I scream, yank the cord from the bedside lamp out of the outlet, and throw it against a wall. I press the palm of my hand against my forehead._

_"And yes, I have tried filming myself," I say calmly. "It always comes out like static..."_

You're glaring at me, and you're right. I should probably gather my things and -

\- and I don't know.

But definitely leave. You've got no use for a bodyguard who is unreliable in so many ways, sexy though you may find me.

I start to walk away when you ask me a question, much calmer than I'd expected.

No, nothing like this has ever happened to me.

And then you _do_ get mad, but not at me.

Yes - you'd mentioned all the other guys had fucked up, and I did question it, but I never considered that _I_ could fuck up like they did. And - even monitoring equipment?

That's sounding like -

\- like really weird.

Either someone _very_ smart and powerful is fucking with you - more smart and powerful than you, and fucking with you so hard that they've _somehow_ got me involved without you or me realizing -

\- or this is some supernatural shit. Which I don't believe in. And I'm pretty sure neither do you.

"This is fucked up..."

_I huff. "You think?"_

_I fall back against the pillows and cover my face._

_"We're going to have to try a different approach than the usual... think outside the box..."_

_I chew my bottom lip for a moment._

_"Maybe even do seemingly outlandish things we would never have considered before..."_

_I sigh heavily. "Such as hypnotherapy, like I mentioned before... Christ!" I shout at the ceiling, then lift my head to look at you._

_"Come here... we're going to brainstorm..." I announce grandly, and pat the bed. "No idea too stupid, no matter how stupid it is... what are all the ways we could try to get to the bottom of this? I say... we consult with a psychic! See how this works? Isn't it *fun*? Now *you* go..."_

I groan.

Why did I decide to throw my lot in with a madman again?

Oh yes, he's hot. And - it wasn't like I was doing very well before this. But - a psychic?

"Have you tried - getting out of London? A different environment?"

_"Of course... the same thing happened..." I sigh, frustrated. Why aren't you playing my little game?_

Did you go to Afghanistan? Eritrea?

Don't sigh; I'm trying to help here.

"Did you try tying yourself to the bed?"

_I frown. “I - *no*.”_

_Do you think I trust anyone to tie me to *anything*... let alone a bed??_

_*Stupid fucking idea*. I want to scream at you, throw the other lamp..._

_I realize I’m scowling at you. Doesn’t lend itself well to my ‘no stupid ideas’ malarkey. Fuck it._

_“Not happening,” I say firmly._

I am about to suggest something else when I catch your face.

Wait. You don't want to brainstorm. You want someone to validate the route you _want_ to follow, but think is stupid. You want me to say that it isn't stupid, lots of people consult psychics, they're perfectly sensible people - except I'd never be able to say so without laughing.

"Hypnotherapy might be a good idea... “ I waver. “My old colleague had a bout of sleepwalking because of PTSD and he said hypnotherapy helped him really well. And it kind of makes sense, because your body is in deep relaxation during hypnosis, like when you sleep."

_I continue to scowl. "Yes... I thought so, too..." I say, irritated. "Of all the things I thought I'd be doing today... setting up appointments with a bloody hypnotherapist was not it..."_

_I grab my phone from the bedside table. "Right. Best hypnotherapists in London... god help us."_

_I wave you off. "Why don't you go use the gym... I have calls to make..."_

_You shrug and slink off. I consult with a psychiatrist and medical doctor I have on call. You certainly don't need to know about the psychiatrist... but what do I care what you think, anyway?_

_Ten minutes later, I have a reputable hypnotherapist on the line, and when I explain the severity of my case - walking outside in London every night - appointments are set up for the afternoon._

_I fall back against the pillows and cover my eyes. I'm feeling nervous, I realize with shock._

_Bloody hell... what has my life come to??_

Well, I know a dismissal when I see one.

I head to the room with the gym equipment. It's got good gear, obviously well used and well maintained. I'll do some reps and then make breakfast.

I feel fine now - I really can't fathom why I fell asleep last night - unless it's this – _thing_ that's affecting you. But - how the fuck could it make _me_ fall asleep?

The only thing I can think of is that it's all _you_ playing tricks on me somehow, but what would be the use in that? What could you possibly get out of it? And you seem genuinely upset. That would be _really_ difficult to fake - and again - why would you?

For not the first time, I wonder if I should leave. And again decide that - no. I shouldn't. Because you're mental, and this situation is mental, but - the thought of going back to where I was, most of which I recall by now, doesn't appeal _at all._

I strip off my hoodie, which smells a bit iffy, throw it over a chair, and stop dead in my tracks. The front of my t-shirt is covered in stains. Blood - diluted blood - and - vomit? Is that what that smell was?

_I do some work, get distracted, do some more work, get more distracted..._

_Fuck... I can’t focus with this appointment hanging over my head._

_I don’t *like* people poking around in my head._

_Especially if... I’m unconscious..._

_The reality of what I’m about to do hits me like a pile of bricks._

_My breathing grows shallow... my chest grows tight..._

_It’s fine, it’s *fine*, I tell myself angrily. Sebastian will be there..._

_*Oh... Sebastian who you’ve known for just over a day?* I ask myself peevishly. *Who’s already proved himself to be a shoddy bodyguard?*_

_No... not shoddy. Just affected by... whatever is affecting me._

_I roll my eyes. *Whatever. Put your faith in the unknown variable with the hot arse*..._

_Don’t forget the blue eyes... and the beautiful cock... I think dreamily._

_*Fuck’s sake... why not just ask him to be your boyfriend? Or just go for it and drop to one knee?*_

_Piss off, I snap silently._

_My brow furrows._

_Easy solution... I’ll ask Sebastian to videotape the hypnotherapy. That way I can be fairly sure the hypnotherapist will be on her best behaviour, and I don’t need to worry about her being a secret agent or assassin or something._

_Or worse, a quack who’s going to fill my head with new-age nonsense..._

_I jump out of bed, agitated._

_I throw on jeans, a t-shirt, a cardigan..._

_The appointment is for Mr Richard Brook, after all..._

_I stare in the mirror, run my fingers through my hair._

_He stares back uncertainly._

_*Hey, honey*... I croon._

I walk into the hallway, see you standing in front of a mirror.

“Ehm - Boss -“

You scowl at me, but your eyes grow large when you see my t-shirt.

“It’s dry. This ended up on my shirt during the night - _somehow_.”

_“So you either... bled and vomited on yourself, or...” I look at you critically. “You weren’t sleeping, after all...”_

_We both grow silent, and stare at each other for a long moment._

_I consider this new data. Were you faking having been asleep? No, then you probably wouldn’t have shown me your soiled t-shirt..._

_*Probably.*_

_“*Well*. I wonder if these hypnotherapy sessions will actually shed some light... or if they’ll be a bloody waste of time... Anyway... we have to start *somewhere*...”_

_I say, scowling. “Have you ever done any sleepwalking?”_

“No. Not that I’m aware of. And seeing as I spent most of my adult life sleeping in the same space as other guys, who I’m sure would have mentioned - no.”

I look at you.

“Did you ever... infect anyone with sleepwalking?”

_“*Infect*?” I echo. “How would that even work?” I stare at you, exasperated._

_“Somehow I doubt that’s possible... but if it were... I’ve never *slept* with anyone, so I don’t know. Actually *slept* I mean... any guests I had left... *after*...” I say airily._

_*One way or another* I think slyly. The annoying ones certainly didn’t leave upright._

Wait -

\- too much information and too many responses.

_You never slept with anyone?!_

How can anyone - how can you -

Well, but you didn't sleep with _me_ \- I mean, you did, but neither of us remember - so maybe we didn't - and then I was in a chair, not in your bed -

Wait. I was in a chair. In the same room.

"Did you ever have guards in the room where you slept? Or only outside?"

Let's keep the question of _sleeping with_ for later. Mission first, soldier.

_“Guards were not inside the flat - they were stationed outside my door and outside the building. I don’t like people being inside my space...” I say loftily._

Well, it's nice of you to let me into your space.

_You never slept with anyone!?_

"So - whatever is affecting you - might affect others too? Have you tried staying awake like I did last night?"

_“Why do you keep asking questions like you think I have the answers?” I ask irritably. “How would I know if it affects others? I don’t even know what ‘it’ is... if it’s basic somnambulism, it’s hardly a communicable disease. Although that would be funny...” I laugh despite myself. “You hook up with some random, and suddenly you’re a sleepwalker for life? Think that’s how I ‘got it’?” I say, giggling madly._

_You have a strange look on your face. What is that?_

_“And yes, of course I’ve tried staying awake... it’s never worked.”_

“That’s interesting... and no, I’ve never heard of contagious somnambulism, but I’ve also never had any trouble staying awake before. And I definitely never heard of somnambulism sabotaging recording equipment before the somnambulant started somnambulating.”

I pull off my shirt, look at it.

“What the fuck have I been up to? Your suit looked fine, didn’t it?”

“It does,” you nod irritably. “Whatever I get up to on the streets of London, I don’t go wallowing in the dirt like you do.”

_You just roll your eyes._

_Interesting. You don’t fear me like most people do._

_Strangely, I feel pleased. Shouldn’t I feel - I don’t know, indignant?_

_I glance at the time._

_“I’ve set up appointments for both of us this afternoon. Why don’t you be a dear and start breakfast?” I yawn._

"For us both?" I startle.

Hold on, I don't need anyone to start rummaging around in my head -

You look at me with a stare hard as steel, and my protest dies in my throat. I guess there's nothing I can say really - I have an incriminating t-shirt right here.

I just don't want them to go into war trauma or anything. Or childhood. Just stay with the last two nights.

Brooding, I go to make breakfast.

_Hm. What was all that about, I muse._

_Soldier stuff?_

_Some..._

_But the main concern is..._

_*Childhood*. Of course._

_So Lord Moran wasn't father of the year? Big surprise._

_And join the fucking club - you had a shit father. Boo hoo._

_I check my phone again, then wander downstairs a few minutes later._

_You're glaring at eggs, innocently frying away in a pan._

_"Don't blame the eggs, darling... they're hardly to blame for your foul mood..." I say in a lazy voice._

_"What?" you snap, then shake yourself a little. "I'm just - not -"_

_"Oh relax... we're doing this to get to the bottom of our little mystery. Not to heal the deepest wounds to our psyches. Not to rehash that *Daddy was cruel*." I look at you, astounded. "Do you honestly think I would do this for... therapeutic value?? And bring my brand new bodyguard along for the ride?" I saunter towards you. "Divulge my deepest secrets? Demand to know yours? I may be completely mad, darling... but I'm certainly not mental enough to do... *therapy*..." I stop in front of you, and stare at you, outraged... see you looking back at me utterly perplexed, with a spatula in your hand... and then I burst out laughing._

_"Can you imagine it? 'You're hired! Now for our joint therapy session...' Oh god..." As I dissolve into mad giggling, I realize I'm leaning against you._

_It's surprisingly... nice._

I'm about to throw - something at you, maybe the spatula -

_stop bringing up my dad_

but then you lean against me and giggle and rest your head against me, and I'm mollified. For now.

"Yeah, well. I don't know how stuff like this works. I've never had it done before - or was tempted to. And I don't see why I have to have a go - you're the one with the persistent problem."

_I narrow my eyes and look at you. “Yes, and here *you* are... falling asleep on the job! Oh and let’s not forget, waking up in the bed of the most dangerous man in London... with barely any memories of your life... So now it’s *our* persistent problem, honey...”_

_I smooth out your t-shirt, pressing my hands to your chest, and stroking your muscles through the fabric. “If you don’t want any part of this, you know where the door is. But if you’re going to stay, you do whatever *I* say. Whatever *I* deem necessary to solve our little problem...”_

_My hands slowly move up to the back of your neck and lock into place. “Are we clear, Tiger? Or is it still *my problem*?” I growl softly._

Well, when you put it like that...

Yeah alright I haven’t quite been compos mentis these past few days.

Or the months before, really.

But the past day has been weirder. And... better. Much better.

So, yeah. You’re definitely a weirdening influence in my life, but also - I haven’t really felt alive for so long, before you came along... however _that_ happened.

I sigh, lean my head forward until it’s very close to yours; just not touching.

“Clear, Boss.”

_I stroke your face, feeling strangely fascinated by you. The things I allow you to get away with... and that you’re in my space *at all* is nothing short of a bloody miracle. Like, the Vatican should be informed. The Devil got himself a housemate. Who makes mistakes and snarky comments and isn’t roasted over an open flame for his misbehaviour._

_Hmm. Such a mystery you still are... and as a rule, no one intrigues me. Not like this..._

_Suddenly I’m very interested in seeing what transpires during your hypnotherapy session._

_I realize I’m still touching you. Oh. My. Well, in for a penny..._

_I lean in and kiss your lips teasingly._

_Then I smirk, and step away._

_“Better look after those e-e-eggs,” I sing, as I take the freshly brewed coffee, and pour it into cups for us._

_“How do you take it, honey?” I drawl._

_Jesus. If the Devil doesn’t watch himself, his housemate is going to start thinking they’re fecking_

_*boyfriends*..._

Eggs - oh yeah. Eggs.

I recall yesterday's eggs -

fucking hell. I shiver at the memory, a tingle going up my spine, following the lines of the M.

Who the hell _are_ you?

Well - Moriarty.

Jim Moriarty.

You're looking at me with a cup of coffee and a rapidly exasperating expression. Right. Coffee.

"Black -" I manage, then turn back to the eggs, slide them on toast, serve them. I'll have to go shopping for tomorrow's breakfast, I think -

\- because that's what I do now. Make breakfast for Jim Moriarty.


	7. Pieces of Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you seen it? How the fist of order tries to hold back chaos? How chaos oozes between the grasp of fingers? How the sun is born and dies twelve hours later? How it rises? How the two weights swing in the scale balanced on the fingertip of a god?
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Nebseni, Chapter XVII. Translation Normandi Ellis.

_I watch you as I sip my coffee... feeling conflicted, are you?_

_If you just gave over to what you really wanted..._

_I shrug to myself. You’ll get there... it’s only been - good lord, it’s only been since yesterday._

_And here you are, serving breakfast and doing as you’re told - even when you kick up a fuss. I can work with it, I think, my eyes scanning your delectable form._

_A submissive man with backbone... and a *mouth* on him._

_God, what I can do to that sassy mouth..._

_My breakfast has been sitting in front of me, and I finally pick up a fork and begin to eat._

_“Bit overdone, but good,” I comment magnanimously. “But what you lack in culinary skills, Sebastian... you’ll make up in other ways, I’m sure...”_

"Oh, I'm sure I could do a better job if I had some more ingredients, and wasn't distracted while cooking..." I grin. "I'll pick some stuff up after our... _session_." I'm still not very happy about it, but well. You are right - whatever is going on with you seems to be going on with me now as well. And it's weird.

Also, I've been seeing someone who looks _exactly like you_ and who wears the suit you wear when you go walkabout in places where you've never been. Before I ever met you.

So, there's that.

I just really hate the thought of some airy-fairy bint poking around inside my head. Or anyone, really.

_We finish eating in comfortable silence. It really is remarkable, how much I’m getting used to having you around..._

_I catch you looking at me a couple of times, and then you look away quickly._

_When you see me looking at you on the other hand, I stare at you steadily and smile._

_After breakfast, you clean up and I do some work. But I’m far too antsy to really focus. This hypnotherapy thing is rattling me, though I won’t admit it to you._

_*Fuck*. Maybe we should cancel and just shag each other rotten._

_But then... night-time will come._

_Night-time always comes..._

_No, we’re getting this over with - so we can strike it from the list and move on to the next possible answer._

_I head down from my office and find you sprawled out on the sofa, reading a book. One leg is resting on the back of the sofa, the other is hanging off._

_Jesus... are you trying to get me to cancel by looking so...*mmm*..._

_Well, it *won’t work*._

_“Get that luscious arse moving, Tiger,” I coo. “It’s showtime...”_

Luscious arse all you like, Moriarty - I'm still not happy about this. You slap my bottom and I get up, groaning. I feel like a child that's being dragged to the dentist.

The car drives us to some place in East London where we're received by a lady who is everything I thought she would be - a long flowing light blue robe, a silver goddess figurine round her neck, a soothing voice. She leads us into a room where there's a reclining chair and candles burning, as well as some kind of essential oil.

She invites us to sit on normal chairs to start with and offers us a cup of tea. Thank fuck she's got normal tea, as well as a plethora of herbal concoctions.

"Now, we've spoken briefly on the phone, Mr Brook - can I call you Richard? - thanks, Richard, and...?"

"Geoff," is the first name I can think of. Damn it. She's going to be calling me Geoff. That's going to go down well.

She nods, then looks back at you. "So - you told me your problem is with sleepwalking and amnesia? Both of you?"

_I look at you and then back to her, feigning nervousness. Richard has never been very confident, poor thing..._

_“Ehm... yes. I know, it sounds absolutely bonkers, doesn’t it!” I say apologetically. “I promise you we’re not crackpots! Up until I met Geoffrey here, I thought I was alone. But we met at a support group for people with sleep disorders, and god what a relief it was to meet someone with the same issues... I don’t know if amnesia is the right term for it, because it only happens at night. Do you think you can help us?” I ask in a pleading voice._

_I glance at you, and you appear to be doing your best not to look shocked at my performance. That’s it... roll with the punches, Tiger. You’ll need that skill when it comes to me..._

What the -

hell?

Where did this guy come from?

I've seen good actors and good liars before - _very_ good ones - would class myself as not bad in that department - but this is - this is an entirely different person. He doesn't even _look_ like you. The large brown eyes are nervous, the hand is slightly trembly as it messes up the hair, the mouth is entirely different, the posture, the voice -

fuck me.

I do my very best not to gawk, but that is one hell of a show you're putting on there. You're wasted as a criminal - you could be a world-class actor.

It's obviously working on the hypnotherapist. She goes all sweet mother hen, leaning over to you, putting a hand on your arm.

"I can see how that would be very upsetting for you both, Richard and Geoff. I can't make any promises, but I have treated people with sleepwalking issues before, with good results. Can I ask a few questions first?"

You nod, nervously, sitting at the edge of your chair, fidgeting. Bloody hell. I have to restrain myself from looking around to see where you have gone and when your stunt double walked in.

"How often does the sleepwalking occur?"

_I look at her nervously. “Every night,” I say in a wavering voice. “It’s been quite a while now. I’ve seen so many specialists... they couldn’t help... Well, obviously... or I wouldn’t be here...” My laugh is empty... hollow._

_“I thought I was broken, beyond help...” I confide, my chin trembling._

_*Jesus*, Richard... I can always count on you for a good show, I think with a stifled smile._

_Then an unwelcome thought floats by... *where does Richard come from?*_

_The question feels almost sly..._

_I steel myself not to recoil. *Fuck’s sake*... where all my characters come from, I snap at myself... my *fecking imagination*._

_I give the hypnotherapist a tremulous smile, but inside I’m fuming..._

"And for you, Geoff?" she asks.

Ha. I anticipated that question. I mean - I can't say it only happened the once, can I.

"I'm not sure," I waver. "I think most nights..."

She nods. "When did this start?"

She's looking at me. She seems genuinely sweet and concerned; I feel bad lying to her.

"Well - I was in the army. Front lines, often. I've seen - well. Lots of things." I wave my hand; she nods, looking large-eyed and sympathetic. "So, when I came back, really. Couldn't really sleep, started self-medicating, drink, weed. That helped me fall asleep, but then I started noticing that I had clothes on the floor which I hadn't worn the day before; that my keys were somewhere else; I had mud on boots I'd cleaned the night before, etcetera."

"Thank you, Geoff. And for you, Richard? Was there anything at all that you can recall that happened before you started sleepwalking? It can be anything, doesn't have to be traumatic. It can be triggered by something as simple as moving house, or even rooms."

_I blink at her in a daze._

_Shit... didn’t think of an answer. Didn’t anticipate._

_Lazy. Sloppy. *Eejit*._

_Are you getting nervous?? Well, *stop* it._

_Jim Moriarty doesn’t do ‘nervous’._

_Although - I can channel it nicely into Richard, can’t I..._

_“A *trigger*? God, there are so *many*, I don’t *know*,” I gesture wildly, and a bowl of goddess cards goes flying. I had looked at it scathingly when I sat down, and now the pretty little ladies are scattered all over the floor._

_All except for the not so pretty one on my lap. I stare at the card for a moment, then scramble to collect the rest from the floor._

_“I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“_

_“Wait!” she calls out firmly. “What was the card?”_

_I look up at her from the floor where I’m kneeling. “The card?” I ask hesitantly._

_“Yes, what was it, Richard?” she asks, staring at me intently._

_“It said...Kali...” I say dubiously. My heart strangely begins to race._

_“Liberation,” she says, nodding sagely. “Is that what you want, Richard?”_

_“Of course,” I mutter, staring at the floor._

_“Then tell me - what’s the first thing that pops into your mind when I ask, what happened before this began?” she says and snaps her fingers._

_I blink again. Snapping is *my* move, I think indignantly._

_“My 19th birthday,” I say in a defiant voice._

_“What happened then? she asks kindly._

_“I - moved to London...” I mutter._

_“Oh... was it stressful moving?” she prompts. “Did you leave family behind?”_

_“N-not stressful. *Exciting*. It was - to follow my dream. I’m an actor,” I say lamely._

_“Wonderful,” she beams. “And your family, were they supportive of your dream?”_

_My heart is pounding now. Jesus, Richard... *get your shit together*. You’re an actor - act calm, for fuck’s sake!_

_I take a deep breath. “Yes. I miss them terribly, of course. But - they’re ever so proud of me...”_

_She smiles with pleasure. “I’m happy to hear it. Well, it sounds like we may have found our trigger. Big move, a coming of age experience... Richard, why don’t you sit down? I’ll get the cards.”_

_She gestures at me to sit on the chair, and she gracefully scoops up all the cards back into the bowl. She offers it to you, like a bowl of fruit._

_“Why don’t you take one too, Geoff,” she says with a wink._

Oh great. Tarot cards. Or goddess cards, whatever. Oh well. In for a penny...

I pull a card out of the deck, show it to her.

"Rhiannon! Lady of love..." she smiles. "She's about taking back the purpose which you abandoned due to the misdeeds of past-time leaders; taking back up your arms and riding into the night on your mission, awakening to the magic."

I stare at her.

Love? Purpose? Mission? Magic?

_I have such a hard time not rolling my eyes, that I have to move my hand over my face before running it through my hair._

_“Wow, Geoff,” I enthuse. “Love and magic... sounds exciting!”_

_You shoot me a smile that’s sarcastic as hell, but you also seem troubled. Oh Jesus, you’re not listening to that drivel are you? Can we get to the actual hypnotherapy in the hypnotherapy session?_

_“Ehm... how do we begin? I’m sorry I’m just so nervous, I’d like to get this done...” I say apologetically._

"I understand, Richard, but it's important that I know what I'm working with," she says soothingly. "It sounds like your nineteenth birthday is a good place to start.

Have you ever had hypnosis before?"

"No," Richard - you, dammit, it's you, not some other guy - you shake your head.

"It's very comfortable. You will just lie on that chair there, and close your eyes, and I will talk. You won't fall asleep, and I won't make you do anything weird. Geoff can stay and watch if you like, or he can wait in the living room, whatever you are most comfortable with."

_“I’d like Geoff to stay,” I say softly, and squeeze your hand._

_You look so shocked and stare at my hand in yours like it’s a hedgehog that suddenly appeared and started dancing a jig._

_“Geoff,” I say somewhat sharply, then smile. “Stay... please.”_

_I giggle nervously. “Oh god, I hope I don’t say anything embarrassing!” I cover my mouth, wide-eyed._

Right. Yes.

I am all distracted by the hand in my hand -

Role. He's playing a role.

"Yes, eh - could I video the session? Not to put it on youtube or anything, of course - just - for Richard to see afterwards?"

"Oh - yes, if you want to. But I record every session anyway, and you'll get the CD. If we are having a productive session, it will help if you can listen to it repeatedly. Having a CD means you don't have to come here every night."

Oh? Well - that speaks for her.

"Alright then - I'll just sit here, if that's alright?" I say.

"Certainly. I must just ask you to be absolutely quiet. Is that alright?"

I nod, and she smiles, then leads you to the chair.

"It's best if you take your shoes off, that will help you relax. Now I'm going to tilt the chair back... don't worry, you won't fall - that's it. Is that comfortable?"

You are lying back, your knees and feet at head height. You nod.

_I lie back, feeling strangely vulnerable. Exposed._

_Yes Richard, I know what a sweet little flower you are, but *I am not*..._

_And I am *certainly* not in the habit of putting myself into the hands of a therapist, especially one who intends to make me go unconscious. Is this even going to work?_

_Why would it? Why did I bother coming here??_

_I should just leave... shouldn’t I? But then this stone would be unturned, and I wouldn’t be any closer to solving my problem. Our problem._

_Bloody fucking hell._

_I want to scream out my frustration like a banshee. That would make our new hippie friend a little less flowy and balanced... I almost snicker at the thought._

_“I’m not sure this will work on me...” I say in a wavering voice. “But I’m ready to try...”_

"Right..." her voice sounds even more soothing now. She turns the lights down so the room is mostly lit by the candles.

"Now, Richard, I'm going to talk you through a relaxation exercise, alright? We're going through your entire body, starting with your head.

Let your head rest back; it's supported by the cushion and doesn't need your neck and shoulders to hold it up. Just let it lie on the cushion. Relax your brain... no need to think, just lie back and listen...

Relax your eyebrows and eyes... they don't need to work now, just let the muscles loosen... now loosen your jaw. People are always keeping their jaw clenched, just let it hang open, just slack. It's alright, no one is looking or judging..."

She talks you through your entire body. This can't be easy for you - you're the most on edge person I've ever seen.

_With every moment I do feel a decrease in heart rate. My breaths are growing deeper and longer. My blood is oxygenating. The tension in my muscles is releasing..._

_So very strange... I can’t remember the last time I felt... relaxed. Like, really relaxed._

_Although I still feel surges of tension as I feel myself resisting the lull of her voice..._

_Her rhythmic breathing... her caring and compassionate energy..._

_*Her what?* I think furiously. *Stop that, Richard...*_

_What I’m feeling is a *physiological response*, nothing more..._

_Nothing more..._

_Mmm..._

"Now I'm going to count down, from ten to zero. Count with me, and with every count, feel your body relax more... Ten... nine..."

So this is it? Is this where the hypnosis sets in? It's hard to say - you are lying there with your eyes closed and your jaw slack, almost like you're asleep, yet somehow still managing to look like someone called Richard instead of Jim Moriarty.

"Now, I want you to picture yourself in your favourite place. It could be anywhere - in nature, or in your bedroom, or a place that you've been on holiday... you are perfectly comfortable, feel perfectly safe, at ease, happy..."

It's hard not to be drawn in by her voice. It's very soothing, melodious, comforting... I squeeze my eyes, sit up straight. You're not the one being hypnotized, Moran. Keep the _fuck_ awake. If you fall asleep again he's going to kill you for real.

_Favourite place?? I think in a daze._

_The penthouse is safe... but that wasn’t the question._

_Nature? No. Holiday? No. Bedroom...?_

_I see myself in my bedroom, and a pleasant stream of images flows through my mind..._

_after sex with you... blissed out on hormones..._

_getting dressed to go out with you, that feeling of excitement..._

_leaving the bedroom and finding you on the living room sofa, cosy and reading..._

_That’s beyond ridiculous, I think dreamily. It’s only been two days..._

"Now, I'm going to count back from ten to zero again. Settle into your place. See it around you, feel it, know that you are truly there. You are safe, you are comfortable.

Ten... nine..."

She slowly counts back to zero. Her voice seems to change - go lower, into a different frequency. Again it's hard to not get carried away.

I wonder how it is affecting you. You are collaborating so far, which is good. And shows your desperation. I hardly know you, but I am pretty positive it's not like you to happily go along with airy-fairy stuff.

_“Now... you’re going to go for a little walk to the place where this began, Richard...” she says, her voice soothing. “But first... you’re going to find something that will take you deep, deep down... like a staircase... or a lift... find your way there, and when you’ve arrived, tell me what you see.”_

_I sigh, and imagine myself walking across the room, and into the hallway._

_This is so ridiculous. Should I be aware of my thoughts, like this?_

_I walk down to the main floor, and then out the front door. And then down the hallway._

_I thought I’d be unconscious. It’s clearly not working, my dear. Someone of my intelligence is obviously far too -_

_Oh. I’m standing in front of a lift._

_But this is just the regular lift - it’s only going to take me down to the *street*... not the *past*._

_“Here,” I sigh heavily. “I’m in front of a bloody lift.”_

_“Very good. And now, Richard... go down, as far as you can go...” she says gently._

_I press the button, and with a *ding*, the doors open. I get in, and stare at the buttons. Then I press the button for the lowest storey._

_“Stupid...” I mutter._

_“Oh, Richard... you’re not stupid...” she protests._

_“Not me. *This*,” I say pleasantly. “I’m at the end of the line...”_

_“Now, Richard... the door is going to open... and when it does, it will take you back to the place where all this began...”_

_I stare at the door, filled with foreboding._

Oh dear. You're not happy about this. I was hoping you might be far away, hypnotized, but you still sound like you, and you sound pissed off.

But, you're still going along with it. And your voice sounds - pissed off, yes, and -

oh.

You don't sound like Richard any more. You sound like _you_. The real you.

_“Did you go through the door, yet?” she asks. “Richard?”_

_“No. Not Richard,” I say with a smile._

_“Who are you?” she asks after a pause._

_“Jim, of course...”_

_“And who is Jim?”_

_“Jim is de man behind de mask. Forget Richard...” I say in a suddenly very Irish voice._

_“Do you - take over for Richard when things get difficult?” she asks._

_I chuckle. “That’s cute. But no. I just go by different names sometimes... My work requires it. Don’t ask..”_

_“I see...” she sounds a bit concerned. “But the real you is Jim?”_

_“Real as real can be... should I go through de feckin’ door now?”_

_“Yes, Jim... go through now, please... ” her voice sounds a little strained, but otherwise calm._

_The doors open with a *ding*. I step through._

_I’m in the building I moved to when I first arrived in London._

_“Shit...” I say urgently. My heart begins to race._

_“Jim...” she says firmly. “There is no need to feel the emotions from this time. For now you can just walk through as an observer. How do you feel?”_

_I exhale. “Alright. But I don’t like it here...”_

_“Understood. You’re just going to walk through to gather some information, and soon you’ll be home. Is that alright?”_

_“Information,” I murmur. “I like information...”_

_“Good. What do you see?”_

_“The building I moved to. When I moved to London.”_

_“Why don’t we go to your flat?” she says softly. “Just for a moment...”_

_“A moment was all it took...” I murmur, and step into the hallway._

You - what?! You tell her you're - _Jim_?? And - you sound incredibly Irish all of sudden. Much more than normally as Jim, when you just have a small pleasant lilt.

And oh god it seems to be working. You're telling her you are in the building where you moved to -

I am dumbstruck. Even though I have heard people talk about hypnotherapy, people who I trusted, guys with common sense, I didn't expect it to _actually_ have an effect. Certainly not on _you_.

I notice I have stopped breathing and am sitting at the edge of my seat. Slowly I start again, careful not to make a noise.

_I’m walking down the hall towards my flat. Dimly I feel a growing awareness of something - being watched. *Observed*. But it doesn’t cause me too much concern... which I’m aware is strange. Somehow I know it’s fine. Not a threat, anyway._

_Then there’s a voice, a familiar one although I can’t think who - or why._

_“Are you in the flat, Jim?”_

_*Patience, my dear*, I respond in my mind as I make my way down the hall. I hear the word like an echo, as if it’s being spoken through a dark tunnel._

_I’m coming home from my meeting with my contact in London. We were connected by my client in Dublin - one of the few nice ones. He gave me money, valuable advice, and the all-important name and number that I memorized immediately._

_The meeting went well. I’m going to start collecting helpful information for this man. He likes the information I’ve already been able to share in part. He likes my hunger and ambition - although truthfully if he had any idea of the depths of my hunger and ambition, he wouldn’t come near me. I know how to keep pertinent things to myself. I like my big, beautiful secrets, even as I dole out the cute little ones to the highest bidders._

_I pause at the door. I look to my left and to my right, and then unlock the door and enter._

_*I’m in*, I say to the female presence in my mind._

_“Look around. What do you see?” she says._

_I scan the small, shabby flat. *It’s shit. But I won’t be here for long.*_

_“Where will you go?” she asks._

_*Up...* I respond. *To the very top. This is but a step along the way...*_

_“Is there anyone in the flat with you?” she asks._

_*No... I don’t like people in my space.*_

_“And what can you tell me about this time - before the sleepwalking started?”_

_*Such a personal question, darling!* I reply, narrowing my eyes as I look around the flat. My laptop is there, hidden under a seat cushion of the sad, dilapidated sofa. I pull it out, run my hand over it - another gift from my client._

_*I had every confidence in my abilities to make my way in the world. I assessed the situation, looked at it from all angles, and it was inevitable, really. But -* I hesitate._

_“Yes, Jim?”_

_*I felt alone. And... scared.* I stand in the centre of the room, clutching the laptop to my chest._

_“That’s an understandable feeling,” she soothes._

_*Not for me.* I insist._

_“Do you have different rules than other people?” she says kindly._

_*Always* I whisper, from within the darkness of the sad tiny flat._

It's quiet in the room. I can hear the noise of the cars on the nearby motorway.

The hypnotherapist speaks softly, and you reply honestly, your voice still sounding more Irish than normal, though not as Irish as before.

I'm shocked at how open you are with her. Find myself dreading my turn - I have too many skeletons in my cupboard - but then so do you. Is this wise? Does she have like - professional confidentiality? Does that apply to - whatever you have done, surely multiple murders -

Should I interrupt? But then - would that be dangerous? And would you be angry? What if this is the secret to you working out your sleepwalking problem?

Best let her continue - if you say too much, I can always kill her afterwards.

_“What happened that day, Jim?” the hypnotherapist asks._

_*I met with a contact who was going to get me ongoing gigs...* I reply. *Showed him samples of my work... he was impressed, naturally. We reached an agreement... I returned home.*_

_“How did you feel when you returned home?” she asked._

_I shrug. *Relieved to have a new start. Intrigued about the possibilities...*_

_“And also scared and alone?” she prompts gently._

_*Oh, indeed, dear lady. Scared and alone. But not for long...* I correct._

_“Why? What happened?”_

_*What always happens. I start to feel something; I send the feeling far, far away.*_

_“How do you do that?” She sounds concerned._

_*Oh no. That’s not why we’re here,* I chide._

_“Why are we here?”_

_*Well if YOU don’t know...* I mutter, and sigh heavily. *We’re here to find out what happened...*_

_“What happened, Jim? After you got home... just let it unfold without being affected by it,” she says._

_*Oh. It won’t be me that’s affected...* I say, frowning._

_“What do you mean?” she sounds so curious._

_What did I mean by that? I look around the tiny flat, see nothing unusual or of interest._

_I walk towards the bedroom, and get ready for sleep._

_I get into bed._

_I turn off the light._

_I lie awake, staring at the ceiling._

_When I close my eyes, I have flashes of memories from Dublin... and then shove them into the bunker, where all the feelings and memories go..._

_I feel the metal of the bunker straining, straining..._

_My hands bunch into fists._

_My fingernails cut into my palms._

_(Mam. Georgie. Mam. Georgie.)_

_(And then... all those men...)_

_My eyes fly open._

_My heart thumps in my chest._

_Blackness pours through me._

_It needs release or I shall be torn apart._

_None of this is for sharing. These are my secrets alone._

_I feel someone waiting in the darkness._

_“Jim? After you try to sleep, then what happens?”_

_*I go to the roof of the building.*_

_“Why the roof?” Her voice is cautious now. She thinks I considered killing myself. And perhaps it did cross my mind here and there. But never in such a pedestrian manner, my sweet._

_*From the roof, I’m above it all... I can look down on my bit of the world, and everything becomes clear.*_

_“Did something become clear?”_

_*Not yet, honey* I chide. *I’m still making my way there...*_

_I arrive and the rooftop is drenched in moonlight, cold and white, cutting through the overcast sky like a blade. I stand in the glow of the moon like a spotlight. And I see in my mind map how I will build my Empire. How they will underestimate me. How they will bow to me, kneel for me. How I will make all the dollies dance - pretty puppets on the glistening strings of my web._

_How I will dole out beautiful death at last... not anything personal like in the past, but as part of the great dance. Starting with the man who has given me my first London contract. Not right away, of course. But when he’s ready to be plucked from the network, and replaced by me._

_I watch potential futures unfold from this moment in time, across the years, across the globe, and I’m so enraptured by it all, that I barely hear the sound behind me. A gentle *pop* and echoing footsteps._

_“Jim? What happened on the roof?”_

_I smile. *It’s not what you think... But it’s so *very interesting*...*_

I'm shocked at everything you're telling her. You seem to be opening up - yet still careful about what you say. You are not incriminating yourself in any way.

I am a bit scared when you mentioned the roof, like the therapist seems to be - were you going to jump?

But then - something interesting?

What?

_I turn slowly to see who’s approaching._

_And it’s a man who looks like me._

_I mean - identical._

_Down to every step he takes as he saunters towards me... and the lofty expression on his cold, beautiful face._

_I stare hard as he approaches. My heart pounds in my chest, and I blink rapidly._

_Hallucination? It’s happened before, under times of extreme stress... when I’ve gone without sleep or food for god knows how long... and the biochemistry of my brain goes to the bad place..._

_But I didn’t think I was that bad *now*..._

_The man approaches me and waves cheerfully._

_My eyes narrow._

_“I’ve been waiting for you...” he coos._

_“What. The. Bloody. Fuck.” I snarl, and take a step back._

_“Oh, my sweet little lamb...” he says sadly. “You’ve been in love with me for so long, I thought you’d be happier to see me...”_

_“In love with *myself*?” I demand, looking behind me for escape routes._

_He rolls his eyes. “‘Course not. Well, yes. But also *me*.”_

_His hands swoop down over his body, and his arms spread out wide. “Pretty, isn’t it! You see whatever form comes from within you. Most people don’t see *themselves* but that’s what makes you special, my dear...” he giggles._

_I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “So. I’ve been in love with you. But you’re not me, you’ve just taken my form...” I say slowly._

_He begins to bounce up and down. “You’ve always been so clever... oh I can’t *wait* until you get this...”_

_“Jim?” A woman’s voice echoes in my mind. Oh. Right..._

_*Yes?* I sigh._

_“What do you see on the roof?” She says firmly._

_*A man...*_

_“What man?”_

_*That’s what I’m trying to find out*, I explain patiently._

_My doppelgänger watches me, smiling impishly. “I know what you’re doing,” he announces grandly. “And you can’t tell her without my permission...”_

_“Oh,” I reply, sounding bored. “Why’s that?”_

_“Well. For one thing, you’d have to kill her...” he grins._

_“Jim? Who’s the man on the roof?” she says urgently._

Yes - who's the man on the roof??

What the fuck, Moran - are you _jealous_? Since when do you do jealousy??

Well - I don't, but - if he's what you remember - what changed your life - what did he do? Why is he so important to you?

_I hesitate. Kill her? The woman is nice. Trying to help me._

_I don’t usually feel this way..._

_The man’s head falls back, and he sighs theatrically._

_“You were never so *dull* before...” he says in a friendly manner._

_“Oh. Piss *off*,” I snap. “Enough with the cryptic game playing. *Who are you?*”_

_“Uh uh uh...” he shakes his finger at me. “You have to *guess* or the game is spoilt.”_

_“God?” I ask scathingly._

_He laughs, and it’s the sound of tinkling bells and the River Styx rushing over ancient stones._

_I frown. Strange thought..._

_“Good one,” he chortles. “Figures you see your face and think ‘the Lord Almighty!’ Try again... I’ll give you a hint. I’m not Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, either...”_

_“The Devil, then,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Here to tempt me with dominion over all the kingdoms of the world?”_

_He laughs harder. “Oh, I’m going to have such fun with *you*...NO. *You’re* the Devil more than I ever was. And you hardly need *me* for having dominion over the world, do you...?”_

_“No,” I answer honestly._

_“Just so,” he winks. “Who does that leave? Awww... *poor bunny*!! I’ll give you another hint... The first time I noticed you was the last day of your mother’s life...”_

_My face remains neutral, but my heart thuds painfully in my chest. *Mam*..._

_He presses his hand against my chest. “Still has the ability to break...” he whispers. “No matter how hard you try to convince yourself you don’t have one. But I can change that...”_

_“What can you change?” I whisper back. “You mean - what happened to my mam?”_

_“Oh no,” he waves his hand. “That’s done and dusted... But! If you allow me to walk with you through this life, your heart will no longer carry this pain... you will understand. You will see. That death is the underside of the fabric of life - it’s the pale side, the messy side with the seams... and the cut threads hanging loose - do you want to know how your mam and Georgie are?”_

_I can no longer keep my face neutral. My chest seizes up. I begin to shake._

_“Jim?” The woman’s voice is so sweet, so concerned. I feel a gentle hand on my forehead, at my pulse._

_“What’s wrong?” I hear another voice, a male voice, deep, husky, mmm... why does it have this effect on me, like soft, warm taffy being deliciously pulled and pulled..._

_“I don’t know. I’m bringing him out.” She says firmly._

_“We’re running out of ti-i-ime,” the man with my face sings. “Say my name. Say it, darling.”_

_*Don’t bring me back!* I call out, alarmed. *I’m not ready-*_

_“Tell the nice lady who I am... who *you* are...” the man whispers silkily._

_“You’re in too far, Jim... it’s time to come back... Ten.. nine...”_

_*Nonono* I cry out, panicking._

_I turn to the man. “Show me my mother. Show me Georgie. Now!”_

_“Eight... Seven...” the woman intones._

_“I already *did* this for you once,” the man complains. “So *boring* to cover the same ground...”_

_“Why don’t I remember??” I demand._

_“Six... Five...”_

_“Some things are too much for a mortal mind to take,” he says, and softly strokes my face. “What happens in the night is for my eyes only...”_

_Then I find myself in his place, staring at my terrified face, touching my cold, clammy cheek._

_“What?” I ask. “What??”_

_“Shhh,” I hear in my mind, and a soothing sensation pours through me._

_“Four... three...”_

_I’m alone on the roof. The moonlight shines down on me. I stare out at the city._

_I will walk through this world as the clever man with the sharp words, the sharp smile._

_I twirl in my lunar spotlight, revelling in the feeling of this body, this mind..._

_“Two...”_

_I spread out my arms like wings, great black wings that envelop the world..._

_“*One*... *Return*, Jim. Back to the present time...”_

_I blink as I open my eyes, take in the room. I stare at the lovely woman, see her threads woven beautifully into the fabric of this life. She smiles at me, then goes still when she sees my eyes._

_The blond man is standing, staring at me. I shake my head at him. “It’s not her time...” I say graciously._

_I could change that. But she should remain where she is. She was nice to Jim..._

_I turn towards her and grin. “You know my Mother, I believe... she birthed me from the darkness of her womb, the great Void...”_

_Her mouth falls open. “What??” she breathes._

_The blond man’s eyes are like saucers._

_“Death becomes you,” I say to him with a saucy wink. And then I’m swallowed by blackness._

Silence for an unbearably long time. Your face is neutral, but slowly lines are beginning to show, more and more pronounced, and then you look pained and start shaking.

I can't sit down any more, I get up, look at you. The therapist is reaching for you, feeling your pulse - what - is something wrong??

You're calling not to bring you back, but she's determined, starts counting, making you cry out in a panicked voice. What should I do? Stop her? But then - how are you going to ever come back? I have to assume she knows what she's doing... but you're looking so agitated - damn, I hate this; stuff going on that I can't understand...

She reaches the end and you open your eyes. Thank goodness.

But -

Your eyes.

In the soft light of the room, they're black. The black of the universe without stars. I know you have lovely hazel eyes, which can look dark at times, but these are nothing like that. They're the abyss themselves.

You shake your head at me and tell me it's not her time - what - you know what I've been thinking?

And what is that about your mother?

You wink at me - and then you pass out, falling back onto the chair.

"Jim!" the therapist and I shout in unison. I dive at the chair, but she's already there, feeling your pulse.

"What happened?"

_Who was that??_

"Jim - Jim can you hear me? Come back Jim..."

I _hear someone talking, then realize it's me - like I'm... talking to myself...?_

_And it feels like it's been going on for a while..._

_Fascinated, I try to listen but I'm growing distracted by other voices. Far less interesting voices... saying terribly tedious things..._

_And just like that, I’m awake - blinking in confusion and annoyance at the faces staring down at me._

_“*Yes*, I can hear you...” I mumble. “It’s *very annoying*...”_

_I feel like almost ill - sweaty, clammy, and slightly nauseous. Completely sapped of strength. I lean my head back in the chair and scowl. “Why are you gawping like goldfish?” I demand. “What happened? I feel *terrible* by the way,” I say to the hypnotherapist. “Don’t mention that on your website, do you?”_

"Jim! Are you alright?" I can't keep quiet.

The therapist reaches for a pitcher of water, pours you a glass. "Here. Drink this. Slowly... you were very deep there, it may take you a moment to get fully back."

You drink the water, and she gets out a package of biscuits. "When you feel ready, eat a biscuit. It will help to ground you."

I look at your eyes. They look normal again - dark, but brown, not - pitch black.

I shiver when I remember those. And - I remember where I've seen them before - when I saw the man. In Afghanistan, in the hotel room.

Am I hallucinating again? Dare I ask the therapist if she saw something? But will she think I'm crazy?

Well - who cares? I'll ask her in a bit, when you're feeling better. You are covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Can you tell me what happened? What you saw? You stopped talking..." the therapist asks.

_“Biscuits,” I mutter, and sip my water. “Do I not get a lolly, then?”_

_My throat feels dry and cracked. I choke on my next sip of water, and suddenly two sets of arms are grabbing at me. I slap their hands away._

_“I’m *fine*... Jaisus!” I say, coughing. Oh, god - *that* rings a bell... I was speaking in my feckin’ accent when I was under, wasn’t I... god, I can practically taste it on my tongue. Jameson and despair. Lovely..._

_What she asked finally registers. What the hell *did* I see?_

_“I remember... the feeling of it,” I say slowly. I think for a moment, trying to grasp the memory. Images float up and then slip away like kittens scattering at a loud noise._

_“Oh, what the *fuck*?” I say loudly. “Seriously? Why don’t I remember??”_

_“Start with something small,” she prompts. “An image. A colour. A word. You were in the flat you moved into when you arrived in London. You went up to the roof... and there was a man...”_

_“A man...” I echo. “Yes... Blackness. His hair, his suit...”_

_*The blackness of night... the blackness of the cosmos...*_

_“Do you remember anything he said or did?”_

_“No.” I stare angrily at the ceiling._

_*The last day of your mother’s life*..._

_(You *don’t* get to hear that, girlie...)_

_“You said you didn’t want to come back. You weren’t ready. What do you remember about what you were doing?”_

_“Just talking...” I say shortly._

_*Staring at my face*..._

_“Is it someone you had met before?”_

_“No. But he was familiar...” I relent._

_“Hmm. Well, you said a few things when you came back,” she says carefully. “Maybe that will help you remember...”_

_“Go on...” I say through gritted teeth. All I can think about is getting out of here..._

_Just *wrap it up*..._

_“You said to Geoff ‘It’s not her time’, and I think it was about me?” She watched me closely._

_I shrug. “No idea.”_

_“And then to me... you said ‘You know my Mother, I believe... she birthed me from the darkness of her womb, the great Void...’” She sounds awestruck as she speaks. “What does that mean to you?”_

_“Fuck all. “ I say, drumming my fingers along my thighs. “And considering I went too deep into hypnosis, and then *passed out*, I really wouldn’t take anything I said too seriously... It sounds like I was delirious...”_

_“Jim,” she says insistently. “I don’t know your mother. But I’m a priestess of the goddess. It sounds to me like you were talking about the Cosmic Mother...”_

_“*Obviously* you’re a priestess,” I sigh, pointedly looking at the goddess images around the room. “You think *everything* is about the Cosmic Mother...”_

_“I suppose that’s true,” she says, a smile playing on her lips. “Leaving that aside for the moment... you also said to Geoff ‘Death becomes you’... does that mean anything to you?”_

_I feel you staring at me, and I find myself looking at you against my will - our eyes lock and I feel a charge go through me - through *us*. What the bloody hell- My heart is racing and I have no idea why. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to show the lovely lady that this is getting to me. She was supposed to give me bloody answers, not go *digging* for things... not make me *feel confused*..._

_“It means nothing to me. It’s just *more delirium*...” I say in annoyance, and then a strange disconcerted feeling comes over me._

_“What did I just say?” I ask in a daze._

_“You said-“_

_“*Delirium*. Yes...” I say, growing impatient. “So what’s my diagnosis?”_

_“Diagnosis?” she repeats._

_“Yes. I underwent hypnosis. Answered your questions. Diagnosis and solution next, and then it’s Geoffrey’s turn.” I flap my hand at her._

_“Well, Jim... that’s not exactly how it works...” she says, her forehead creasing. “The answers come from within you, and I’m here to facilitate the process...”_

_“Facilitate the- oh good god...” I lean forward and cover my eyes with my hands. “Look. I don’t remember what I did! It’s just like what happens at night. That’s the point! So can you help me or not??”_

“Jim - this is not a here’s your diagnosis, here’s a pill thing. You know that; you’ve been to regular doctors; I dare say you have tried pills, and they didn’t work.

I think we made a lot of progress - you went to the place where your sleepwalking began, you saw someone, spoke with him - you don’t remember what you said, what he said, consciously, but your subconscious is what this is about, and that might well remember.

I’m not going to give you the CD, because I don’t think you should try this when you’re alone. You went really deep.

But I would recommend coming back for another session, to see if we can find out more about what happened. Please try to keep a diary in the coming week about how you sleep, what you dream, if you sleepwalk, if you have flashes of memory or dreams during the day, anything to do with sleep or dreaming, and see if anything changes.

I’m sorry I can’t just wave a magic wand and make it all better in one session, but I think we have made some good progress.”

_I want to scream. I want to throw that bowl of beautiful goddess cards against the wall._

_Instead I exhale slowly and smile._

_"A diary." I feel a mad giggle building up in me and I suppress it. "Well. I shall strive to comply with your recommendation."_

_God, Richard got left behind a while back... which means... however my name and persona started out, I ended up receiving therapy as *myself*._

_Me. In *therapy*._

_Fucking christ... *So. Not. Happy*._

_I notice you staring at me intently - as if you're waiting for me to spring from my seat, and slash the sweet lady's throat._

_Ah, Tiger... you live and breathe violence and death - such a valuable quality._

_I tilt my head as I assess you, and your eyes widen slightly. Maybe this wasn't a complete waste of time. As much as I want to storm out amidst much cursing, there's still a lovely big rock that should not be left unturned._

_Hypnotherapy may have better results with Sebastian. After all, he won't have a pesky genius's brain to get in the way, and cock up the works._

_*Of course* my brain didn't want to play in this silly sandbox. And Sebastian's may not want to, but he'll do as he's told._

_"Thank you, my dear. Much appreciated," I say, all gentility and graciousness. "Now. Geoffrey's turn."_


	8. Warriors of a Common Purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Come," said the lord of life to the lord of death one day. "Let us make a truce. I shall bring forth creatures and deliver them unto death, if you deliver the dead unto life."  
> "Why should I bequeath my powers to you?" asked death.  
> "It is simple enough. If you do not, I shall make no creatures at all. Then what good will your strength do you?"  
> "I see your point. But what good is death in the face of life, or for that matter, what good is life in the face of death?"  
> The two gods argued this way and that and the conversation fell upon the ears of truth. "Come now," said truth, for he was the great uniter and wanted also to show his power. "Surely there is a way to settle this matter. You, god of life, shall make two of all your creatures, one visible and the other invisible. Death may take them, but he must keep only one. The body shall be his to do with as he pleases. The spirit he shall return to life."
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani and Nebseni, Chapter XVII. Translation Normandi Ellis.

Wait - what??

You - still want me to go? After that??

"I'm not sure..." I start, but you _stare_ at me.

Fuck.

I look at the therapist, who smiles.

"It's different for everyone, so there's no saying what will happen for you. I will make another recording. Now, do you want Jim here, or would you prefer him to wait in the living room?"

What - now? But - aren't you still - recovering... no, you look like you want nothing more than to get out of that chair. Oh, christ.

"Jim can stay," I say lamely, then get into the chair, take off my boots, am tilted up.

"Wait - before we go - can I ask..."

"Yes, Geoff?" she smiles.

"When Jim came out of the hypnosis - his eyes - did they look - black to you?"

Her smile wavers, if only for a moment. "It's quite dim in the room..."

She did. She did see it. She's just convincing herself she imagined it.

Good. Then I'm not hallucinating.

But what the hell does that mean? What kind of condition makes someone's eyes change colour? To pitch black?

"Now, I'm going to talk you through a relaxation exercise. Relax your head..."

_You *so* do not want to be in this chair... but obediently you get in, like a good soldier._

_Oh, I’m *so curious* about what’s going to happen, despite my feelings about my own session. And hypnotherapy overall._

_Is it going to be like in films? What are *you* going to be like, deep down?_

_The thought is strangely compelling... but then, you’re living with me. Apparently._

_Of course I want to know more about what makes you tick..._

_Then you ask about my eyes looking black..._

_*Black like the cosmos*, I think._

_It feels like there’s a floating puzzle piece in my psyche... drifting around looking for a matching piece to click into._

_It’s disconcerting, which makes no sense... don’t I *want* to discover the answer to my problem??_

_Anyway. It’s also disconcerting that *she* saw it too, and won’t admit it. I thought she would be into the airy-fairy nonsense...?_

_I watch as she guides you through the same process. With your eyes closed, I can stare at your face even more openly than usual._

_My god, you’re a beautiful man..._

_I stare at you, fascinated._

_What’s underneath the gruff, stoic soldierly exterior? I want to peel back your defences like the skin of a blood orange, and then bite into your sweet, juicy flesh..._

I'm relaxing. The chair is comfortable enough. Let's just get this over with.

"Right Geoff, I want you to go to a place where you feel at ease. A place that is perfectly safe, pleasant, and comfortable."

I knew this was coming. I picture the woods behind my parents' country house. There was an elevation there with some bushes surrounding a bit of grass. It was perfect - once I was up there, no one could see me. I'd spend hours in the grass reading, safe from the world. I picture myself sitting there now, bigger, but the bushes are tall enough to hide me still.

"Now please picture stairs or a lift; or if you're in nature, a path that you can walk down. We're going to walk or take the lift down, lower, lower... towards the place where the sleepwalking originated. It can be when it began, or it can be much earlier... and don't worry, you are only there as an observer. You are just looking. Nothing can touch you.

Right, we're underway... Ten... nine..."

I don't really want to leave the top, but I can go down on the side opposite the house, which just leads deeper into the woods. I make my way down the slope, watching where I put my feet, listening to her voice counting.

When she's reached zero, I look up.

Not Oxfordshire. This looks more like Afghanistan.

We're hiding. We've found a place that seems to function as an HQ for the Taliban in the area; full off ammo, weapons, at least two important leaders inside at the moment. Hoyle is guiding aircraft to the spot; I'm keeping an eye on the place, checking who goes in or out.

"Geoff? Can you tell me where you are?"

I can't speak - we have to be silent -

"It's fine Geoff, nothing can touch you. You are only observing. You can speak without drawing attention to yourself."

Oh yes - clever lady. She must have guessed it was a battle situation.

*I'm in Kandahar province. We're staking out a building.*

"OK, let everything happen. Remember, nothing will touch you, you're just watching. Don't interfere in what happened, just observe, and keep telling me what happens, OK?"

*Hoyle is bringing in the aircraft. I'm looking through the scope. The aircraft is nearly here, he's talking softly, pressing buttons - they're here - I can hear them coming.*

The soft buzz in the night air, the tension as it increases, the intense concentration looking through the scope -

"Keep talking, Geoff..."

Geoff wasn't my code name. Anyway. *They're near now. Terrible noise. They hit the building, spot on. Perfect hit. I'm looking through my scope, ready to shoot anyone who comes out.*

Flames, explosions from the ammo stores. I can feel the heat and force on my face. No one is going to come out of that. But still I keep watching. And then -

*What. The fuck.*

"What is happening, Geoff?"

*There's someone walking - towards the explosion. How did he get there? Why is he walking towards the building? It's an inferno - couldn't get anyone or anything out any more. And - he's not a local. He's white - deadly white - a young guy - wearing a suit; black suit, looking completely unruffled, like he's having a stroll in the park, while the sparks are flying around him, debris raining around him -*

I don't know what to do. Should I shoot him? Who is he? What the hell's he doing there?

And then - he looks at me. I'm nowhere near, it's dark, there's no way he can see me, but I swear he looks straight through my scope into my eyes, reading my mind –

*It's you.*

"Me?"

*Not you. Jim. And your brother.*

_I listen to you, utterly fascinated. I should ask for more of your stories - battles, special missions. I want to hear it all. Well. Not the boring bits._

_But I suspect hearing the exciting tales of you being a bad-ass special forces soldier will send my libido into hyper-drive. It’s already hard not to get distracted by you. And now to hear your soldier voice... mmm..._

_Flames, explosion... I’m picturing you there, in your SAS gear... god... *so hot*..._

_Wait... who is this guy?_

_White, with a black suit, is definitely ringing a bell. A huge fucking alarm bell that is clanging loudly in my head._

_Who is he??_

_“Me??” I echo, and then my heart begins to race._

_“What do you mean, my brother??” I demand._

*Your brother. Not the one who is here now, the other one. He's coming out of the building, smiles, tries to high-five you, but you stare at him, so he takes you in a bear hug.*

He came _out_ of the building. Which is a blazing inferno by now. *He's not on fire, he just walked out of the flames.

I have no idea what to do. I turn to Demmings, who's looking through his scope. I ask if he's seeing that. He asks what. I say the men. He asks what men. I say the man in the suit and the man with the long red hair. He says where. I say right between the building and us. He says where. I say right there, you're looking straight at them. He says he sees no one.

I look again. You are looking at me again, putting a finger to your lips.

Oh. I shouldn't have said anything I guess. I'm sorry.

Oh no, your brother says it's alright.*

_I listen to your description, absolutely stunned. When you pause, I look incredulously at the hypnotherapist who is once again gawping like a goldfish._

_Then I realize my mouth is open too. I snap it shut._

_“Why do you think he’s my brother?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me._

_Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head slightly._

_Oh, I’m not allowed to talk? But he answered me already._

_And I *need answers*._

_“Ask my twin his name,” I hear myself saying. The hypnotherapist mouths ‘fuck’, but then looks at you to see what you’ll say._

*He's not your twin, he looks nothing like you. He's younger than you, also younger than your other brother who's here.*

_Jesus. How many brothers do I have??_

_“No. Ask *me* my name...”_

*What's your name?*

_I stare at you, outraged. Are you being purposefully dense??_

_“Ask the man who looks like me. His. Name.”_

*I can't, he's too far away. I am only seeing him through my scope. And he's leaving. I won't see him for another three years.*

_Fuck._

_“Is the brother still there?”_

*Yes, and so are you, but I can't see either of you any more.*

_I sigh, and wave at the hypnotherapist to continue._

_It was fun interrogating you, even though I didn’t get the answer I desperately wanted. Maybe I should employ a hypnotherapist, to ask people questions when I don’t want to kill them... far less messy than torture..._

_and then they wake up and forget everything._

_So handy! I wonder if the lady would be amenable. Probably has integrity or something, as a priestess. Suppose I could look for someone else less reputable and less hung up on silly things like ethics._

*Your other brother is here though. He says he can meet you tonight if you want.*

_“What other brother??”_

*How do I know? They're your family. She knows though. She works with him.*

_Good lord, another one??_

_“Who’s she?”_

*The one who serves your Mother.*

_I feel like I’m having a conversation in Bizarro world, but the most disturbing thing is that I keep feeling like tiny bells are going off._

_My mind is lighting up like a fecking pinball machine, and I have no idea *why*._

_“Can you ask anyone *anything*?” I ask, my head in my hands._

"Jim - I don't think this is helping..." a female voice sounds.

_I flap my hand at her. “Fine. You take it from here...”_

"Geoff, how are you feeling right now?"

*Confused. I saw those guys, and Demmings didn't. And they _can't_ have been there - they were right near the explosion. I must have imagined them - but I saw them clear as day. I was afraid they were experimenting on me with drugs or something like you hear about the US army. But I felt fine otherwise.*

"How did the days after this go?"

*Normal. We cleared off with no problems. Went to Helmand. Stiles got food poisoning. Got hit in a convoy by an IED. One guy lost an arm.*

"Did you start sleepwalking then?"

*No, slept fine. When I could.*

"Did you have trouble sleeping?"

*No, we were just busy.*

"Do you think seeing the men has anything to do with you sleepwalking?"

*Yeah. I didn't start sleepwalking until I met Jim.*

_I listen in annoyance. Well, that I already knew!! But who are these seemingly endless siblings you’re yammering about??_

"When did you meet Jim?"

*Yesterday morning. I woke up in his bed.*

_I smile faintly and look at the hypnotherapist. She appears surprised, but not pearl-clutchingly so._

_She glances over at me, and I shrug to indicate I have no idea how it happened... then smirk to indicate that I’m not even a little bit sorry._

"So you started sleepwalking... last night?"

*Yes.*

"I see...

Can you tell me about the second time you saw the man you talked about earlier?"

*I am in Iraq. Baghdad. A bomb site - bodies everywhere. I see him walking through the rubble. Wearing the same suit. There's dust everywhere, but it's immaculately black.

I am alone. So is he. He looks at me. His eyes are pitch black, like Jim's eyes just now. He nods at me, but he looks distracted... like he's looking for something, or someone.

I try to approach him, but he's always just a stone's throw away. Eventually I give up. I think I'm probably hallucinating him again.*

_I shake my head as I listen. This makes no *fecking sense*._

_Hypnotherapy was supposed to provide answers, not make everything more confusing!_

_I appear in places I’ve never been, with two brothers? and a woman who *serves my mother*?_

_I can’t make heads or tails of this. I’ll have to withdraw into my mind map when I get home, and see what my brain can come up with unhindered._

_But for now, I remain thoroughly stumped._

_Listening to you spout nonsense under hypnosis._

_I look at the hypnotherapist impatiently. Are we done here?_

"Did you see him again?"

*Yes, in several places. He was always wearing that suit. He was so beautiful...

No one else ever saw him. I decided he must be a figment of my imagination... seeing beauty in hell.

And then I saw him in the hotel, three nights ago, again in the black suit. And then I met Jim in the club and knew that he was the man, so I had to stay with him. Except for the eyes, the eyes are not the same. Jim has beautiful brown eyes, the man has black eyes. But then Jim had black eyes earlier.

So he's not a figment of my imagination. And I have been trying to woo him all my life...*

_I find myself transported by your words, like I’m seeing myself through your eyes in all these scenarios. Because I know I had this experience with my session - staring at my own face, those black eyes..._

_I just didn’t want to say the words aloud... didn’t want to hear them moving through the air..._

_Because... it would mean all this was real..._

_But you did it, you beautiful thing... you set them free._

_But *what does this mean?*_

_And -_

_*Woo him all my life*??_

_..._

_I stare at you intently, my heart pounding in my chest._

"What does the man represent to you?"

*He's what I live for.*

"Is Jim what you live for now?"

*Yes.*

_First there is blankness... silence roaring in my ears._

_Then come thoughts, fighting with each other to be heard..._

_‘How... *how*?’_

_‘After 2 days??’_

_And a softly purred ‘That’s right, darling... your life is *mine*...’_

_Which fills me with such pleasure, it takes my breath away._

_The narcissistic psychopath within me is practically swooning..._

_So this is the thought that triumphs in the end - its boot resting on the necks of the vanquished thoughts - now dead and forgotten._

_The victorious thought strides majestically off the battlefield..._

_*Your life is mine*..._

_A smile spreads across my face._

The woman's voice sounds concerned.

"Why do you need someone else to live for?"

*Everyone's life needs a purpose. You have the Mother. I have the Son.*

_My eyes flicker over her face, reading her. She has gone still again. She’s searching your face, as though assessing whether she can believe what her gut is telling her._

_She glances over at me, and I give her a look as if to say, ‘you’re the expert. What now, sweetheart?’_

*Your brother says he'll explain tonight, and he'll let me go now.*

I open my eyes, blink.

Shit.

"Sorry - I think I fell asleep -"

_God, the *brothers* thing makes me so deeply uncomfortable. It makes *no sense*._

_I mutter under my breath, and then blink in surprise - without being led back, you’ve woken up. If I’m surprised, the hypnotherapist is gobsmacked._

_“Geoff?” she asks, gripping the armrests of her chair. “Are you *awake*?”_

"Yes - sorry - I have no idea why I fell asleep -"

God, you're going to _kill_ me - what's _wrong_ with me lately? Did I get a sudden case of narcolepsy?

"Do you remember what happened? What you saw, what you said?"

"No?" Wait - did I say stuff? Was I under hypnosis then? But - it seemed different for you. You said you felt bad; I feel fine. Like I just had a bit of a nap.

_“Oh you had *a lot* to say,” I purr. “Most of which didn’t make a lick of sense to me. And some of which was very... enlightening.“_

_I give you a pleased smile, feeling like a cat with canary feathers poking out of its mouth._

_I sit back in my chair, fold my hands neatly in my lap, and wait for the lovely lady to ask any final questions and conclude the session. Suddenly I can’t wait to get you alone again..._

"Here, have some water." She moves the chair upright and hands me a glass.

"Do you remember anything? It may seem like a dream, like you were sleeping..."

"No..." I try to, but I only recall sitting in the chair, relaxing...

... and coming back.

But there was... something...

...no. Whenever I try to reach for it it slips between my fingers like loose sand.

"It's fine. I've recorded what you said; we can listen to it, and see whether it makes sense to you." She hands me a biscuit.

_Oh god, biscuit time... Do you get milk, too?_

_I eye you as you eat it._

_“I’d like something sweet,” I say lazily._

_She apologizes and gives me another one, smiling._

_I munch the chocolate concoction, continuing to gaze at you._

_I’m already picturing you naked, chained and begging me to let you come._

_“What now?” I ask her, not taking my eyes off you._

"Geoff's journey seems intimately related to you, and his perception of you. I think it might be beneficial if you and I listen to the recording together, Geoff, and discuss what it might mean. Jim, I think it would be best if Geoff and I do this without you there, so he can speak freely."

You shake your head.

"No."

_I look back and forth between you and the lady, and smile pleasantly._

_I could just tell her to continue in my usual Moriarty manner, but I suspect that won’t be effective in a therapeutic setting. She’ll likely think you’re being coerced or abused or whatever, and resist. And if I start to threaten, she’ll probably cry or shut down emotionally and be utterly useless._

_Bloody sensitive therapists..._

_I hate to admit it, but her expertise could be valuable - and I won’t be able to access it with my usual methods._

_So, *fine*. Just need to be fecking *calm* and *reasonable*. I can do that..._

_“Geoff only agreed to do this so *we* could fully understand the problem at hand,” I say casually. “Not for his own therapy... or he wouldn’t have come. So in order for us to understand, we both need to be a part of it. Do continue.”_

_I stop myself from gripping the armrests, and lean back comfortably._

She looks at me. "Jim is right," I say. She doesn't look happy, but you persist.

"Geoff was telling porkies earlier. This only started when he met me, so it all seems to be related to me." I look at you surprised. "You told her during your hypnosis. You told her allll kinds of interesting things. Shall we listen?"

"Jim. Can I have a word with Geoff alone, just five minutes?"

_I throw my head back against the headrest and exhale theatrically._

_“Well if I said no to *that*, that would certainly look suspicious! *Go on*, Geoff darling... do assure the good lady that I have not strapped explosives to the inside of your clothing... nor will I be waiting in the hallway with a gun.” I get up and saunter towards the door. “And I won’t throw a hissy fit when we get home, so everybody can just *relax*,” I say with a big sunny smile, and slip out of the room. I firmly shut the door, and lean against the wall. My eyes close, my head thumps against the wall, and my hands ball into fists._

_It takes *everything in my power* not to scream blue murder and shoot the door._

_*Everything’s just fine,* I think manically. You just have to treat these people with kid gloves if you want anything from them. It’s going to be *fine*._

_I breathe deep, calming breaths._

_*That’s it...* relax. Be like Richard..._

_I roll my eyes. *Please*. It’s a little late for *Richard*. He skedaddled as soon as the hypnosis bloody started. Now it’s a little fucking late to get him back!_

_But. I can remember what it’s like to be him, and not want to kill when things are outside of my control._

_You don’t have to kill anyone, I whisper to myself... you can still get what you need without threatening or torturing... just breathe..._

You're not happy about this, but you leave.

The therapist looks at me, eyes large and concerned. What the fuck did I _say_?

"Geoff, did you ever have therapy after you left the army?"

"No... well, I spoke with a psychiatrist once. He said I had PTSD."

"And did you have therapy for that?"

"No, I didn't want to."

"Why not?"

I shrug. "Didn't seem useful. I was doing fine. I was still in the army then; I just wanted to go on my next assignment."

"Does Jim remind you of someone from your childhood?"

"No..." I hesitate. "Did I talk about him?"

She nods.

"About - where I saw him before?"

Again she nods. "Can you tell me what your relationship with Jim is?"

I look down. No - I don't really think I can... ‘Yeah, sure! I woke up in his bed, he cut me open, and then we had a sleepwalk together. All perfectly normal, right?’

"He... is my employer."

"I see. Are you in love with him?"

 _What?_ My eyes fly upward, I stare at her. "What did I say?"

"Nothing about that. Please answer me. I won't say anything to him."

"I-"

I don't do love. I don't do being in love.

_You gave your entire self to him without question._

That's different. I -

"No. I've only just met him."

"That doesn't mean you can't be. So - could you tell me what Jim represents to you?"

"Represents?"

"What does he mean to you?"

"I... I don't know. I wasn't doing very well, and he gave me a job, a very trusted position. I appreciate that, a lot."

"Do you feel indebted to him?"

"I... no, I don't think so."

"Does he have a hold over you? I mean, could you leave if you want to?"

_No._

"Yes."

"OK. We can listen to the recording now, and you'll see why I ask these things.

Here is my card," she hands me a card with a purple flower and her contact details and qualifications. "If you ever need help, or someone to talk to, do not hesitate to get in touch."

I nod, pocket the card.

"I'll let Jim in again."

_I’m pacing and getting so bored that I start taking selfies of myself making faces - angry, cheerful, manic, sad, silly._

_Then I text them to you relentlessly with the message ‘Thinking of you! Hurry the FUCK up! Kisses, Jim’_

_The final photo I’m rather delighted with - saucy, pornographic and *beautiful* composition._

_When the therapist lets me in, I suspect you have not seen them. Ah well, a lovely surprise for you later._

_I sail into the room and throw myself back into the chair._

_“Have I been outed as an abusive monster, or did you two just gossip?” I yawn._

"I have a responsibility towards my clients, Jim," the therapist chides.

"Now. Shall we listen to the recording?"

I nod. She starts the file.

'I'm in Kandahar province. We're staking out a building,' I hear my voice say. I look at her, nonplussed. I don't remember saying this at all.

But - Kandahar - that means -

'- a young guy - wearing a suit, black suit...'

I went straight to the first time I saw you. Or the Man.

'Not you. Jim. And your brother.'

Brother?? The other guy I saw - _brother??_ How?

'Your brother. Not the one who is here now, the other one.'

 _Other_ brother? What the hell??

She pauses the recording.

"Do you remember this?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I mean - yes, I remember the occurrence, seeing the Man for the first time, in Kandahar, with the other guy - but I don't remember telling you. And -" I look at you. "I have no idea where I got the idea from that that was your brother. You looked nothing alike. Or who that other brother is."

_I listen with rapt attention. Well, at least you agree now that the information you gave was bizarre and bordering on nonsensical. How would you know strangers were supposedly brothers, if they looked nothing alike?_

_My mind paws at this problem like a curious cat, batting it back and forth in fascination._

_When do people ‘know’ things when they shouldn’t, conceivably?_

_Only people who have psychic abilities, etc., which I don’t believe in anyway._

_People do receive information in dreams, apparently... you could chalk it up to their brain working out a problem (such as a scientific theory) but some people are said to receive warnings in dreams... or visions... or a sixth sense._

_It is so infuriating that I even have to consider this... but I don’t have to *believe* it, I just have to think outside the box._

_“Not that I believe in these things, but I assume you do,” I drawl. “If he was receiving information from an external source while in this state, what are some of the possibilities?”_

"There are many possibilities," the therapist says, turning to me. "Depending on how attuned you are to which sources, it could be your own subconscious, showing you information that you didn't consciously know; it could be your spirit guide, which is like a guardian angel, appointed to guide us through life. It could be your ancestors, or a god or goddess...

But I've never heard people talk - quite in this manner. Usually people have messages which relate to themselves, but you spoke directly to Jim and me, and about people that are connected to us. Jim, you did so as well, when you came out of hypnosis, saying ‘I know your Mother who birthed you from the great Void’..."

She shakes her head. "This is quite unusual, but it does sound like you both have had some profound insights."

She looks at me. "Do you want to continue listening to the recording, Geoff?"

I turn to you. She looks at you and back at me again, sharply. Yeah yeah, I get it, I should make my own choices.

"Yes, let's hear if there's more," I shrug.

I hear myself describe the rest of the experience, then refer to your brother again. You are trying to get information from me in an increasingly exasperated manner, but to no avail.

'Your other brother is here though. He says he can meet you tonight if you want.'

'What other brother??'

'How do I know? They're your family. She knows though. She works with him.'

'Who's she?'

'The one who serves your Mother.'

'Can you-'

The therapist pauses the recording again.

"You're saying I work with Jim's brother?"

I look at her, at you, utterly at a loss.

"I am sorry, I have no idea where all that came from. I don't remember anything. I recognize my voice, but - I have no idea."

I turn to you. "I said your brother would meet you tonight??"

_“You said a lot of things...” I say in a sugar-sweet voice, while staring at you intently. I want to see your reaction when you hear my favourite bit - about living for me._

_I shrug. “Apparently I have siblings coming out of the woodwork. Shall we hear more?”_

She presses Play again. I hear myself talking. Then she asks about the sleepwalking. Whoops.

'Yesterday morning. I woke up in his bed.'

Righhhhht...

She asks about the second time I've seen the Man. I tell her. And -

I've been trying to woo him all my life?? Where did that come from??

'He's what I live for.'

'Is Jim what you live for now?'

'Yes.'

I want to bury my head in my hands.

See!? I didn't want to do this! I was right! Fuck -

I look at you.

_I watch you closely, registering every muscle twitch, every moment when you look like you want to fall through the floor._

_Awww... poor, cringing Tiger..._

_Oh, and here’s the very best bit, the bit I’ve been waiting for, the jewel in the crown, the *piece de resistance*..._

_When you look up at me, I make a kissing motion._

_You make a frustrated sound in your throat, and I grin madly._

_“*Someone’s* going to end up with the Employee of the Year award... and I’m not one to spoil a surprise, but I already know you’ll love the prize...” I look you up and down provocatively._

_“It will fit you perfectly, Tiger...” I purr._

"OK. Great. I _said_ I didn't want to do this. But - I definitely didn't expect this."

For a moment I consider a trick - but no, that was definitely my voice.

"So - what did that _mean_?? 'You have the Mother, I have the Son'? Like Jim was talking about his mother earlier? What - you're her goddess's son? And who are those brothers of yours?"

_“Yes, I’m rather curious about that myself,” I drawl. “Any ideas, my good lady? I’m afraid mythology is not my strong suit...”_

_Actually I could speak about the mythology from any culture she chooses, but I want to hear *her* thoughts._

_And oh, I would have enjoyed torturing you some more... but priorities, priorities..._

_Let’s conclude our business here, and then I can go back to playing with you... in the privacy of our home._

_*Our* home??_

_What the fuck, Jimmy??_

She looks uncertain.

"Hypnosis can be a lot like dreaming. The things you say make perfect sense to you at the time, but may be harder to interpret afterwards. They do usually reveal the deeper parts of our psyche, and so what we see is often our deepest truth.

But it would have helped if you would have been honest with me from the outset. Your name is not Richard, Geoff didn’t start sleepwalking until after he met you, which was two days ago, and now you're his life...

Why did you _really_ come here, Jim?"

_I look curiously at the hypnotherapist. Are you... *calling me out*, dear girl?_

_I chuckle._

_“You’re sweet. And you’ve been very caring with my Tiger so I’ll tell you this. I like information. I like solving problems. You see, it’s a special little gift I have, dealing with problems. They open up to me like lovers. You just have to find the sweet spot and *press*...” I tap my fingers on my lips, pensively. “My entire adult life, I have not been able to crack this problem. And now it’s affected someone else, so I know it’s *not* just in my head.”_

_I suppress a wince. Thinking it was just a feature of my madness is something I’ve had to live with for years. It has not been pleasant._

_I didn’t realize until I just said it how *relieved* I feel... like a heavy burden has dropped from my shoulders._

_“You ask why I really came here...? It was *time*, good lady. I needed to try a new approach. Something completely out of the box - that’s you.” I smile at her winningly. “I’m dreadfully sorry about the lying. I don’t trust humans, as a rule. But if you think you can crack this nut, I’ll be as forthright as you like.”_

She sighs.

"Well, it's a tricky situation. Something seems to have happened when you first came to London, with a man on a roof. It was significant to you. We should probably try this again, and start from there. But not now - you went too deep. I suggest that you come back next week, keep a diary in the meantime like I said, and we try to get back to that moment."

_“A *week*,” I echo. “I’m rather partial to expedient solutions, but what’s another week of sleepwalking, eh Tiger? What harm could we possibly do?” I wink at you._

_You’re too busy brooding to react. Still hung up on your little revelation? You poor thing... so *exposed*! Just wait until I kiss it all better..._

_I hop up from my chair. “I can’t *wait* to start my diary. We’ll have to stop at a stationery shop, Geoffrey darling...”_

_I grin at the lady, take her hand and gallantly kiss it._

_She regards me searchingly._

_Aw. You’re far too sweet and earnest to be able to figure me out, honey... stick to your normal clients and their quirky little neuroses... then hand them a biscuit for being so brave._

_“Come along, Tiger..” I coo._

I get up, follow you and the therapist back to the door. She sets us up for an appointment in a week, tells us to call her if we need to.

In the car you turn to me. “So, what did you make of that?”

I shrug. “Absolutely no idea. The stuff in Afghanistan and Iraq was right, I remember that. And that man looked just like you, like I said. But that the other guy was your brother... I never thought that; I have no idea why I said it. He looked nothing like you. And we _still_ don’t know how I could have seen you there.”

I shrug. “All in all we just have more questions than before. But, we’re going to see your _other brother_ tonight, aren’t we? And he’ll explain it all, and then you’ll forget all about it in the morning. Maybe you can ask him to write it down?”

Fucking hell. My life has gone from desperately bleak to frustratingly puzzling in two days.

But I’ll take the frustrating puzzle - it comes in such a delightful package...

Who I said was my reason for living.

I groan inwardly. Terribly smooth, Seb...

_I chuckle when I see you cringe. I know exactly what you’re thinking about. Oh, I could just eat you up with a *spoon*..._

_“Ah. Yes. My mysterious ‘brother’ and our meeting tonight. I’m sure it will clear things right up. Maybe I should wear a sign around my neck when I go to bed. ‘Please transcribe our meeting, dear brother. This pesky amnesia is so vexing.’_

_I feel a twinge of discomfort at uttering the word *brother* - like it’s an affront to Georgie._

_I begin to brood._

_It *is* an affront. I have one brother and he’s *in the ground*. Suddenly I’m dying to meet this fraternal wannabe... only I can’t even promise to put him in his place. For all I know, I’ll give him a big hug, and buy him ice cream._

_When we arrive home, I’m fuming. I throw my jacket on a chair and turn to you._

_“Bedroom. But first, take your clothes off,” I growl._


	9. Spirit Walking in Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are no trees, only this stone wall, old and already crumbling, which divides the man from the boy he was. Darkness lies thick with forgetfulness on this side of the wall and that. I look back. The straight road behind me changes. It twists and twines beneath a night without stars. Is it even the same road I travelled a moment ago? Before my eyes, it writhes and twists yet again. One hill looms ahead; one grows behind. I am deep in a valley, the unfamiliar ground cold and sunless. I walk twisting paths. I go round in coils of earth. I travel the back of a snake.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, Chapter CXLVII. Translation Normandi Ellis.

Eh. Oh.

Yes Sir. I guess.

This would be a very welcome suggestion if it weren’t for the fact that you seem livid. You were getting all grumpy in the car and it’s not eased off.

But - what can I do? I tried to distract you in the car and got a snarl; it’s not going to be better here. And refusing - is too ridiculous to even contemplate.

So, all I can do is try to comply as enticingly as possible and hope it puts you in a better mood.

I take off my boots, which unfortunately can’t be done in any sexy way, then stand up, pull my shirt over my head, throw it onto the sofa, unbuckle my belt, undo my trousers, push them down with my pants and step out of them.

Voilà. One naked Tiger.

_I watch you with a neutral expression, feeling my bad mood loosen its grip on me with each article of clothing that is tossed aside, with each swath of skin that is bared._

_By the time you're naked, I can feel a hint of a smile on my lips._

_Slowly I circle you, dragging a fingertip along your taut abdomen, arm, luscious bottom, arm..._

_Then I move my fingernail down, down, down, along your shaft and head..._

_relishing your full-body shiver, and the twitching of your semi-erect cock before it hardens in front of my eyes._

_"Mmm. Infinitely preferable to deal with phenomena based on clear cause and effect," I remark, moving my fingernail up the shaft, watching you shiver and breathe more quickly._

_"Not pseudo-science that can't even provide clear answers, hmm, Sebastian?" I coo and step closer._

_"Cause and effect," I say breathily. "Just being ordered to strip, there was already a physiological effect, and then..." I grasp your cock and murmur into your ear, "Didn't take much, did it... you so enjoy being mine to command..."_

_I stroke your cock firmly. "But that makes sense... you live for *me*, after all..." I whisper._

_You cringe self-consciously, even as you grow more and more aroused by my touching and soft murmurs._

_"Don't ever be embarrassed by that, Sebbie... you found your purpose. Do you know how many of the little ants out there never do? They *wish* they had as clear a mission as you... my *Tiger*..." I growl softly._

_You moan as I continue to stroke you, and then make a distressed sound when I stop._

_"I believe I told you to go to the bedroom..." I say with a smile, and step away._

Yes. Bedroom. Right.

Well, your mood seems to have improved - that's good. Considering what you did when you were in a _good_ mood - I don't think I want to know what you're like when you're having angry sex.

I walk towards the bedroom, hearing you right behind me going up the stairs.

"Like what you see?" I grin.

_My hand shoots out and I pull you back and around to face me, before I push you down onto the stairs. Of course your reflexes are off the charts - even more lightning-quick than mine. But you allow it... Of course you do. I kneel on the stairs and crawl over your body, gazing down at you._

_“Yes, I do like what I see...” I growl, my eyes raking over your body. “Very much...”_

_My fingers dig into your chest and move slowly down to your thighs, leaving red streaks. “But of course there’s always room for some adornment,” I breathe, before capturing your mouth in a heated kiss._

Rrrrnn... Little bright red lines of fire across my chest and hips - I gasp, and there's your mouth on mine, your tongue demanding access, your body pressing me back onto the stairs, the smooth wool of your suit rubbing against the inside of my thighs, your hands groping, claiming.

 _You live for_ me _, after all..._

_Don't ever be embarrassed by that, Sebbie... you found your purpose... my Tiger..._

And just like that, on the stairs, suspended between one floor and the next, I feel my surrender entering a deeper phase, one I never suspected, but which feels so true, so just, so real...

Yes. I do live for you. Always have, always will... I don't know who you are -

I don't know _consciously_ , but I have the feeling that sleep-walking me, dreaming me, deep-down me knows, and has always known.

But whoever you are - you are the One.

The One I live for.

The One I'll die for.

_Staring at you, I unknot my tie and yank it off. Next comes my belt._

_Then I stretch out your arms, and tie each wrist securely to the polished wood balusters of the railing. I leave, glancing back to see your heated look._

_Chuckling, I make my way downstairs. I have a few sips of cold water, and then collect your discarded belt, a bottle of wine, and some lube._

_I kneel in between your legs, and take a sip from the Pinot Noir. I hold it up to your lips - you go to sip, and I pull back as I tip the bottle - letting the wine pour over your chest and abdomen. You inhale sharply as the alcohol splashes over the scratches._

_“Just look at this mess, Sebastian,” I say reprovingly. “The stairs will have to be recarpeted, I hope you know...”_

_I lick the trail of wine from your abdomen up to your nipple, and then let my tongue swirl around it._

_“You don’t seem too troubled by it, honey,” I remark, and flick my tongue against it before biting down._

I moan and melt further into the stairs. The biting trails of your scratches, my wrists tied to the stair rods, your teeth on my nipple all combine to reinforce the surrender I'm feeling. Yours. Yours Jim. Living for you. Dying for you - sure. But not now.

 _What the fucking fuck, Moran??_ sounds somewhere in the back of a corner of my mind, but it's soft and powerless and easily ignored. Any misguided pride I have left really doesn't have a place in this new reality, which is mental and fucked up and also the most right my life has ever been.

_I stare at you with gleaming eyes. “But you *should* feel troubled by what troubles me... it should trouble you *terribly*...”_

_I take your belt and run it slowly and sensually through my hands... then lash it against your now-wet chest. You gasp sharply, and I continue to lash._

_The redness of the wine can’t compare with the redness that blooms on your skin._

_When I lash your nipple, you cry out then stare at me. I gaze at the other nipple, reddened and with teeth marks - then I smile and lash against it hard._

_You groan loudly._

_I continue to lash down along your torso, and then your thighs._

_“Open for me, darling,” I drawl._

_You hesitate for a fraction of a second, then your thighs drop open. Expertly I twirl the belt over my head with a flourish, and bring it down hard on the tender flesh of your inner thigh._

_“*Fuck*,” you moan._

_“People miss so much surface area,” I remark, as I continue raining down lashes along your inner thighs and calves. “And stop at just one round! Can you imagine, Tiger? When it’s so much more painful the second time?” I tsk and lash the tops and arches of your feet._

_Then I lift the bottle and pour the remaining wine along the length of your body. I start to drag my fingers through the wetness, rubbing it all over your dripping skin._

_“If you’re not careful... it’s going to splash the walls too,” I say in a tart voice. “Imagine how disgruntled I’ll be if they have to be repainted?”_

_I smile slowly and bring the belt down over your calf with a sharp wet smack._

Pain, pain across my chest, then an order - open my legs. The ultimate vulnerability - surely you wouldn't -

\- but you _would_ -

\- hesitation, fear, for the tiniest moment - but I can't, can not not obey the order -

I open, expose myself, to you, to whatever you choose -

the belt dances in your hand like a living serpent, ready -

and its fang strikes not where I had feared, but still _bites_ keenly, and keeps going, keeps going, as I hold myself open for you, give the most sensitive parts of my body to you, and you strike, and strike, and strike; areas which I'd never dreamed about being lashed, spreading pain from my shoulders to my toes.

Respite - cool wine pouring over me, making me shiver; then your fingers, your touch, almost more unbearable than your lashes - and they start up again, covering the wet skin already glowing from the last round, and I sink deeper into the pain, into the possession... acknowledged now, though not voluntarily, undeniable...

_When I reach your chest again I stop for a breather. I notice that your skin is looking *delightfully* stripy... your cock is twitching... your pupils are dilated... your breath is ragged and uneven... and then I see drops of wine splattered on my shirt._

_My eyes narrow. I unbutton it, and throw it down the stairs._

_“I was going to move this to the bedroom... but it’s important to keep things fun and frisky, Tiger. So the magazines say - surprise your man!” I say cheerfully._

_Then I take the wine bottle and smash it over the bannister._

_The look on your face is priceless - at once stunned and *so alive*..._

_“Surprise,” I say in a silky voice._

_I toss the neck of the bottle over the railing, and hear the sound of glass smashing on the floor below. Then I flick aside the shards of glass that have fallen onto your chest, watching tiny scrapes appear on your skin._

_God, I’m already so addicted to leaving my marks on you... I take a large shard, hold it up, and stare at it curiously._

_“If you’re worried about hygiene, it’s been disinfected by a very fine Pinot Noir,” I remark. Then I slice across a spot under your lower rib, making you gasp. I watch blood fill the cut, and drag my tongue over it._

_“Not as fine as this vintage, though...” I purr. “Mmm... rich, dark notes of danger... an undercurrent of defiance and rage... a hint of smoky sweetness...”_

_I slice the other side of your abdomen, and run my tongue slowly over the red streak._

_“God... I could get *drunk* on you, you delectable thing...” I breathe, and move up to press my bloody lips against yours._

There is a hint of fear, of course there is, I wouldn't be human if there wasn't - my skin is being cut -

but there is a much larger part that is desire, and lust, and relishes the slightly sickly pain of the skin being sliced open, and relishes even more your mouth on the cut, drinking in my blood, taking me inside you, like an ancient ritual, binding us forever.

The taste of my blood on your lips intoxicates me too, so wrong but so perfect... I groan, lick your lip, lying limp on the stairs, bleeding on your carpet, feeling my blood stain your trousers, your undershirt...

_I’ve never enjoyed kissing anyone like this... I just don’t, as a rule. Unless I’m playing a role, and even then - my character may be enjoying it, but I feel nothing._

_You are the very first person I’ve actually wanted to kiss._

_Which is a red flag if there ever was one. Right. Enough kissing._

_I pull back and stare at you hard. I sit up and scan your body greedily._

_A veritable feast lies before me - what else can I cut?_

_I keep rejecting ideas - I want it to be an aesthetically pleasing choice since it looks like I’ll be keeping you._

_Strange thought... My heart begins to race, and I grit my teeth._

_Before I know it, I’ve trailed the shard of glass lightly over your torso and placed it over your heart. I cut an ‘X’, making you groan._

_There - perfect._

_This is an arrangement. Employment. With benefits._

_Leave fecking *feelings* out of it, Jimmy..._

_I lick the wounds over your heart - one line, then the other. You moan, and it’s fucking beautiful, and I *want* you - furiously I pull you into another kiss._

Your eyes gleam as you look down at me, your eyes moving over my body. They're dark, but they're dark brown, not the vast expanse of empty black that I saw earlier. What are you going to do next?

I lie remarkably open and receptive, considering there's a madman with a shard of glass surveying my body for good places to cut it open. But it's fine - it's you...

You aim for the heart, cut an X. Well, at least not another initial - but what does that X signify? X marks the spot? The place where you will stab or shoot? Or is it an X like at the end of a text message, signifying a kiss? A kiss on my heart?

And yes, your mouth follows, greedily licking the blood, my heart's blood, and you're back onto my mouth, kissing possessively, and all I can do is moan and sink deeper into total submission.

I've never been so completely surrendered in my life, never thought this was a thing that was possible, with my reflexes, my stubborn body determined to stay alive.

_We’re both breathing hard, kissing so intensely..._

_What the *fuck*, Jimmy..._

_I pull away from your lips, biting down as I do. Beads of blood appear on your lower lip._

_I look down at my handiwork, bleeding down along your ribs._

_*X marks the spot*, I hear myself think._

_Oh you bloody... fucking... *eejit*._

_There’s a sharp sensation in my hand. I look down at the shard of glass I’m clutching - red is trickling down my fingers and palm._

_this just gets better and better..._

_I glower at you, and hold the sharp point under your jaw._

_I could end it all now... this danger zone I keep merrily skipping through would no longer apply to me. All that would be left of you would be a blood-soaked carpet, easily replaced. It wouldn’t be the first time, sunshine..._

_“I know you like your danger, honey...” I say in a rough purr. “But there are some places even stone-cold killers should fear to tread...”_

_I move closer to your face and whisper, “So dreadfully difficult to resist, my darling...”_

_I press the glass gently against your skin and stare at your pulsing neck in fascination._

I don't know what's happened, but I feel you retreat and stiffen, and I open my eyes to see you scowl, look down at your hand, cut by you clamping down on the shard. Your scowl moves to look at me - I recognize very real danger. You are pissed off about something - who knows what it is this time - and you are not someone who holds back on lashing out.

The point of the shard is pressed into my neck. I go very, very still.

You say there are places I should fear to tread -

what did I do? Where did I trespass?

Who knows -

Difficult to resist, you say –

so you are resisting, still...

The pressure increases. I keep still - if I move, you will strike. I can see it in your eyes.

What I can't see, is your intention. Do you want to kill? Or just let me know you could?

Even so - I'm pretty sure I could fight you off. *Pretty* sure I could knock you out with no more than a scrape across my jaw.

But that's theoretical and hypothetical. Because I wouldn't.

Even though I don't know what you're going to do.

But it's your decision.

_I see the calculations going on in your mind at lightning speed... you’re assessing so much in an instant. Just like a proper special forces soldier..._

_Deciding whether to neutralize the danger? And deciding to leave it up to me._

_Oh dear, dear... yes, there is a mad love for danger... yes there is a fascination and flirtation with death... but the deciding factor in the end is *me*._

_I’m your Boss. You live for me. So I get to choose whether you live or die... with your blessing?_

_I let out a long breath. How could I just throw that away for the thrill of tipping the scales of life and death? Well, I *could*. And it *would* be a thrill..._

_But strangely enough I’m more thrilled at the idea of seeing what *else* I can do with you... today... tomorrow... the day after that..._

_Part of me is disapproving of this mightily, and thinks taking you out of the equation would be the most expedient thing._

_And part of me just wants to fuck you raw and order Thai food._

_My Id grapples with my Superego for one glorious moment._

_When I toss the shard over the bannister, it’s like watching my rigid, controlling nature sail through the air and smash on the ground. For a *man*._

_Oh god... what have I done..._

_Apparently I’m not too concerned about it, because I’m reaching up to untie you, then snapping “over” - you turn and move onto your knees, and once again I stretch out your arms and fasten you to the balusters. You look over your shoulder with darkening eyes as I apply lube to my cock, then squirt more onto my fingers._

_Then I’m sliding into you one digit at a time to work you in - just enough to take it hard and fast, because I can’t take a moment more of waiting to be inside you._

_I remove my fingers, and position myself - kneeling behind you, and prodding your opening with the head of my cock._

_Then I surge forward with a growl._

And in one swift move, we've gone from death to its opposite, sex, in a keen surge of pain and pleasure.

I'm awkwardly balanced, grasping the stair rods, my hips being gripped, my blood staining the stair carpet - yeah, you'll definitely have to get a new one, probably burgundy - and I'm being filled with you, literally and metaphysically. Every time you fuck me I feel more _yours_ , and I've never felt so connected to _anyone_ ; not my family, not my mates, certainly not my sexual partners...

With a sting I think of my first boyfriend. After his death I swore _never again_... but that was _love_ , with all the intensity a tragic teenage love can carry, but this - this is different - this is absolute... Like a god taking possession of a devotee; equally one-sided, and equally ecstatic...

That hypnotherapy session has done away with any pretences I might have tried to keep up about being an autonomous strong proud character... I can let them all go...

And the groan that I roar into the void carries with it all the pain and insecurity I felt the past year or so, since being out of the army. As my arse is taken without regard for comfort, my knee aches, my chest and legs burn, and the slashes sting; I am gripped with the euphoria of losing myself.

_My hands move from your hips to your torso. As I thrust into you, I move my fingers over your bloody wounds - on your abdomen, and then over your heart._

_Your groans grow louder when I do, but I sense you practically swooning. Ohh, you like it when I’m possessive... when I’m territorial... no matter how much it hurts. *Especially* when it hurts._

_Well, we can *certainly* give you what you desire... what you crave..._

_“Oh, how you love being at my mercy...” I growl into your ear. “Being tied up... cut up... fucked up by a bloody psycho... I held broken glass to your carotid artery and you didn’t even blink. Know what that makes you, sweetheart?”_

_“What?” you moan as I grab your cock._

_“It. Makes. You. Mine.” I thrust faster and deeper as I speak. “Do you know what that means, Sebbie?”_

_“God...” you gasp, as I stroke you. “What, Sir?”_

_“It means. You. Touch. No one. Not with your hands... or that talented mouth of yours... or this very pretty cock... Understood?” I snap._

_“Fuck... yes...” Your head falls back as I stroke you harder._

_“And speaking of this cock that now belongs to me... you are not to come before me. *Ever.* Unless I give permission... are we clear?” I say breathlessly. I must be getting close, I’m sounding far less threatening... and by your moans, it’s not clear to me if you’re even paying attention._

_I tug sharply on your cock. “*Clear*, Sebastian?”_

I'm in a haze, a beautiful dark red fog, through which your words sound - and then -

That word again.

_Mine._

Not as an employee now -

No touching others.

No coming before you.

If anyone else would have suggested this...

but with you, it's not even a question. Of _course_ I won't touch anyone else - why would I? And - yes - of course my cock belongs to you. Every bit of me...

But the fact that you want to state it explicitly... want me to say it...

it means you care...

you care what I do with my cock... who I touch, who I kiss...

you want me for _yourself alone..._

"Fuck... yes, Sir, of course - yours, all yours," I pant.

_I feel myself practically glowing when your acquiescence drops from your lips._

_Mine, I think fiercely. Minemine*mine*._

_I find myself leaning over your shoulder and pulling your face towards mine into a greedy, possessive kiss. You respond eagerly, and it’s so easy to get swept up in this euphoric rush of hormones... and our chemistry which I’ll admit is off the fucking charts... and you owning up to my utter possession of you._

_But as enjoyable as this ill-advised kissing is, it can only last so long what with my more practical need to balance on these fucking stairs. Whose bloody idea was this, I think with a mad grin as I break off the kiss. With one hand I grip your hip hard, and I sling the other arm over your chest. Your head drops back against my shoulder._

_Oh god, you feel so good against me..._

_and you are *so fucking hot*…_

_I continue to thrust and stroke, feeling your body push back against mine. Shivers begin to course through my body, and my breathing grows erratic._

_“Fuck, Sebastian...” I mutter. “*Fuck*...”_

I think you're happy with my statement, because you kiss me hungrily, which is _magnificent_ , but a bit precarious on these stairs, so you move back, take me in a possessive grasp, and thrust inside me. I lean against you, helplessly balancing, relishing the sensation of your cock, your hand, your chest against my back, your fingers digging into my skin as your breathing speeds up, goes shallow -

 _Yes_ , Jim, my dark lord, my owner, my crazed fascinating psychopath...

_I move in and out of you, mindlessly fast and hard... we’re both gasping and groaning now. The cries that escape our lips are assaulting the walls, the ceiling... growing increasingly louder and more desperate. I’m teetering on the edge of something - not just the stairs. I need to come before I lose my balance and break my neck. But something feels even more precarious..._

_The cold analytic part of my brain asks ‘do you *really* want to go there, Jimmy?’_

_‘The bottom of the stairs?’ I reply, my eyelids fluttering closed. ‘I’ll endeavour not to...’_

_‘No. This biochemical response will be anchored into your body and your consciousness if you let yourself have this-‘ my mind responds urgently._

_‘Your plaything has *got* to go-‘_

_NO._

_“*Mine*,” I hear myself mutter furiously._

_“What?” you say breathlessly._

_“Shut up. Come when I do,” I order. “You’ve ruined the carpet anyway...”_

_I hear a strangled laugh, but I don’t know if it’s me or you - because I’m flying into a dizzying ascent of shuddering ecstasy - that is so shockingly, intensely pleasurable it’s almost *maddening*..._

_I’m dimly aware of your cock thrusting into my hand and pulsing... your body going into spasm... your howls of pleasure as your semen spurts into my hand._

_I barely stay upright, clinging to you helplessly... like a ship’s mast while siren song tries to smash me against the rocks of the shore... as wave after wave of aftershocks crash through me..._

'Come when I do' - oh god yes -

You're laughing as you shudder and I feel you filling me up even more, your nails digging into my hips, your hand tightening around my cock and it's all I needed to push me over the edge, I was so close -

I howl my ecstasy out into the void as I helplessly tumble into the abyss on the other side of possession, pain, and pleasure...

You shiver and cling to me as I do my best not to move too much because I don't want to push you off the edge of that stair while you're half incapacitated - god, whose idea was it to fuck on the stairs when you have a perfectly serviceable bedroom, sofa, desk, kitchen table...

My mind goes blank when I think of all the areas where you might take me in the future...

_I remain draped against you, not trusting myself to move... we’re both panting, our muscles trembling against each other. It’s this that finally gets me to move - it’s feeling a little on the intimate side, even if it’s just my physical body reacting this way._

_My heart racing... the feeling of euphoria... all physiological effects, and absolutely nothing to get worked up about._

_But there’s certainly no need to court unnecessary closeness... just because in the space of one precarious fuck, you’ve gone from employee with benefits to... what exactly are you??_

_*Tiger*, I decide. You’re my Tiger, and that’s all the defining of role and relationship that I need._

_I peel myself carefully from your damp back. I wipe my hand on the doomed carpet before leaning forward to untie you. Finally I collapse against the stairs - there’s no point in trying to avoid blood; it’s splashed everywhere._

_“You leave quite the mess, don’t you,” I remark, feeling strangely comfortable in my uncomfortable position. I watch you lower yourself against the stairs and stretch out your long limbs. Crossing one leg over the other, I sigh with pleasure._

"I know Sir... can't take me anywhere... only, it appears that you actually can," I grin, rolling my shoulders, rubbing my wrist. Fuck, that was - fuck. Bloody dangerous to have a fuck that intense on the stairs...

"I guess I'll have to learn carpeting? I can carpet rooms, have never tried stairs, but how hard can it be?"

You look at me daggers. "I will have a _skilled craftsman_ do these, thank you very much, Tiger. You can get rid of this bloodstained one though..." you shake your head. "I will have to house-train you..."

I snigger. "Of course. Train me to only bleed on approved surfaces. No problem."

_I regard you. Your face is lit up and you’re cracking jokes. My. You’re in a better mood, aren’t you..._

_Looks like all you’ve needed is some deviant foreplay and a good hard rogering to put a spring in your step..._

_Well, look no farther, honey..._

_Or I may have to put out your eyes, I think with a lazy smirk._

_“Mmm. You’ll learn that and so much more...” I drawl. “Now as comfy as the stairs are for a post-coital smoke... we’ll have to move this into the bedroom.”_

_We remain lying on the stairs, neither of us moving. We turn our heads to look at each other. I grin back at you before I can stop myself._

Aw you look so incredibly _cute_ when you grin.

I'm not going to tell you. You'll probably strangle me with that tie.

But you _do_. So roguish and young. It makes me want to get into _loads_ of mischief with you.

Fucking hell. Thinking of on what surfaces he's going to fuck you, thinking of the mischief you'd like to get in with him - why don't you go and choose rings, Sebastian? This is so not like you...

It isn't. It very much isn't.

But it so is...

I feel more myself than I have in years. More than I ever have when not blowing things up. I thought civilian life was not for me... but you are - delightfully uncivil.

I stretch, pull myself up, extend a hand to you. You let yourself be pulled to your feet. I grab my trousers and head to the bedroom, where I put some towels on the bed before sitting down, so we don't stain the sheets, light a fag, and take a few long, blissful drags.

Then I hold it out to you.

_I watch you as you smoke. God, you were hot before, no question - but with your face all glowing and carefree, it’s something else entirely. You’re fucking gorgeous, and I *do not* say that lightly. I always present myself as the most beautiful, desirable creature in all the land... but your attractiveness doesn’t compete with mine. You’re all golden and tan and blue-eyed... and tall and muscular and so fucking masculine, it sends my hormones into a frenzy._

_Meanwhile there’s me with a dancer’s build... elfin features...(and oh, do I use *that* to unsettle people)... and hair and eyes so dark, people mistake them for black constantly._

_I couldn’t be more different than you... and I know you would fit a more classical template of male beauty. But here you are stealing looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing you’ve *ever seen*._

_Oh yes... I did the right thing making you mine._

_Whatever my paranoid brain thinks..._

_I *can handle this*._

_*Of course* I can handle this..._

_“Sir?” you ask, and I look at you in surprise. You’re holding out a cigarette expectantly. I blink and take it from you, feeling a spark when your fingers touch mine. I ignore this and take a pull from it._

_“Disgusting habit, Tiger,” I say loftily, and take another drag._

"Hm-hmm," I agree, as you hand the cigarette back and let smoke flow from your mouth. God, could you look sexier? Your lips still a bit stained with my blood, your eyes shining, a small grin, smoke rising in front of your face... and then you lick your lip, and it turns out that yes, you could look sexier.

I flick some ash into the ashtray and lean my head back against the pillows, staring at the framed map of 17th-century London opposite your bed. I could sigh with happiness, which makes no sense at all, as I'm in the clutches of a violent madman who goes AWOL every night and has infected me, and we still don't have any idea of what's causing it despite spending an afternoon in a chair saying _way too personal_ things.

But it's great.

I'm a simple man. If it leads to fucking _awesome_ sex, I'm happy. And if I can have a fag after, even better. Maybe I'll have a beer later and the entire thing will be perfect.

_I sigh contentedly as I wait for the cigarette to be passed back to me. I can't recall when was the last time I ever felt so relaxed._

_Oh, that's right - I'm never this relaxed._

_It helps that you can be in comfortable silence without feeling the need to fill the air with pointless comments and observations._

_There's something extremely relevant to be discussed, but it would disturb this unfamiliar feeling of peace..._

_part of me wants to just take the evening off - shower, eat, drink, relax some more... a blow job before bed would do me a world of good._

_But then, night always returns to abduct me... and we'll be right back where we started._

_I sigh, and then dive in._

_"As much as I would love to put it off, we do need to discuss it... there's no reason to have put ourselves through that if we don't use the information somehow. Even if it's to conclude it was some kind of shared hallucination, for reasons we don't understand... reject it outright as delusional... and just live our lives as madmen who wander the streets at night, and then return home to engage in crime and deviant sex acts." I smile wryly. "I suppose there are worse fates, Tiger..."_

_You hand me the cigarette and I inhale the smoke, then watch it plume above me like mist._

"You're right. We need to draw up a plan.

Which is going to be no mean feat. We have no reliable information; just intel gained from raving lunatics in a trance which made no sense at all.

So - from you we have the man on the roof of your first place in London. Do you remember anything else about that encounter than what you said with the therapist there? I think it's best that you are completely open with me, if I'm to help you with this. We've kind of established that I'm yours, so no need to keep secrets," I smile wryly.

_"Oh and you think you know when I'm keeping secrets?" I say archly. "*Presumptuous* Tiger..." I take another drag, and hand you back the cigarette. "Bu-u-ut you're not wrong. You should assume there is *always* information not being shared, and don't think to take me to task for it. But what *would* be relevant for you to know in this case...? hmm..." I say with a playfulness I am certainly not feeling._

_My head falls back and I cover my eyes with my hands. Fuck._

_"Let's just say... he knew things. Things about my past - childhood," I say around the lump in my throat. "Things... that I have not breathed a word about to *anyone*. About - people." I swallow hard. "*Family*. You don't need to know details. Only that - he knew things about me, who I cared about. And they're dead, so he could only have known if..."_

_I struggle for words. My heart is pounding. I don't talk about myself. And certainly not about *that*. I feel like I've just ripped gauze from a wound and torn skin off... now I'm bleeding all over the fucking sheets._

_I feel nauseous. My skin is growing damp. *Fuck*..._

_But then - a thought occurs to me._

_"He could only have known if - he could somehow read me..." I say slowly. "Know my... feelings." It feels like a foreign word to say it. A dirty secret. Jim Moriarty *feels* something. A pit has opened up in my stomach, and I try desperately to ignore it. "If he had access to public records, he would know our relationships, yes - but then he would also know my diagnosis as a psychopath. Which should mean he can't affect me. But somehow he knew exactly what button to press... how could he know?" I ask, opening my eyes. I stare at you in confusion. "I would say he's just the externalization of a part of me, but - why did you see him too??"_

"Did I see him? Who? I saw - you, and a guy which I said was your brother? Was that this guy? You said he looked familiar, but it wasn't someone you'd met before?"

_I shake my head at you slowly. “I would hardly divulge *everything* to a therapist, would I! I gave her only what she needed to know, and not a bit more...” I pause, and then sigh theatrically._

_“He looked like me. My doppelgänger gets around...” I say drily, watching your reaction._

Looked like - you?

So - I’ve been seeing this guy, and I thought he was you, but - he was someone else? Someone you have been seeing too?

But - what about the eyes...

“So the man I’ve been seeing and the man you saw - might be the same one? Did you see him since?”

_You look stunned. Yeah, well... I'm struggling with this myself, even though I'm doing my utmost not to let on. Hearing that a stranger with my face has been waltzing through war zones is disconcerting... I'm the master of mindfucks, but I'm not used to them being directed at *me.*_

_And I'm not pleased about it..._

_"Well, unless there's an army of Moriarty lookalikes, I would imagine he's the same..." I say pensively. "And no, I haven't seen him since. I think I dream about him, though..." I trail off, now remembering bits and pieces of that night and other nights that popped into my mind on occasion. But I always assumed they were fragments from dreams._

_"I thought what happened on the rooftop was a dream... and... it felt like he did something to me..." I say in a low voice._

"So - what the fuck are we dealing with? Shared hallucinations? Ghosts? A _really_ elaborate prank?" I reach for another cigarette, light it - this requires some nicotine in the brain. "None of this makes any sense. I mean - I don't believe in any of that, and you seem a rational man yourself. Shouldn't you have been more open with the therapist? Could she have had - experiences with things like this before?"

_“Back the fuck off, darling,” I say in a mild voice. I snatch the cigarette away from you with irritation, and suck back smoke like it’s oxygen instead of poison. “Strangely enough, I’m not the kind of criminal psychopath who goes and rips open his psyche for a therapist to root around in... like a truffle pig sniffing in the muck,” I mutter darkly, and take another drag. “I was as open as required, given the circumstances. If we can’t make any headway, *perhaps* I’ll divulge some more.”_

_I hand you the cigarette in annoyance. “And no, I doubt that it’s a shared hallucination, or a prank.” *Ghosts?* Not fucking possible, I think furiously. “And why would a ghost have my face??”_

"I don't know! And why did I see you years before meeting you?? I thought I hallucinated you! But if I hallucinate you and you hallucinated you then - who are you?"

Ugh - no, this is not making any progress.

"Right. Let's strip this down to the basic facts. Age nineteen, you see a bloke on a roof who looks like you and knows secrets about you. Right then, you start sleepwalking, and occasionally dream of this bloke. Could you be meeting him while you sleepwalk?"

_I stare up at the ceiling as I think. “Maybe...”_

_Another memory flash, and I flinch - on the rooftop I seemed to change from my perspective to his, like seeing the world through his eyes. Discomfort rises in me, and then anger. I do *not* like the notion of not being in control..._

_“It’s almost as if... he took me over...” I say through gritted teeth. “But - it still doesn’t answer the question. Who the fuck is he??”_

"Took you over? Like - what - a demon possessing you?"

This is getting just too weird.

"He never did anything of the sort with me. Just - was there, walking pleasantly through war sites, and disappearing again. We never spoke, or anything. He acknowledged me that once, put his finger to his mouth - but that was it. I just assumed he wasn't real. But if he's not real, and you saw him too - do people often see similar hallucinations? I guess different people see Jesus or Elvis, but they have a prototype to go by..."

I extinguish the cigarette in the ashtray. This is so far out of my comfort zone... I mean, I'm trained to go up into unexpected, unknown, complex situations - but bloody ghosts are a step too far even for me.

_You seem stressed out, far from the blissed-out state you were in after our reckless fuck. Strange - I actually find myself feeling *wistful* about it. Like I want to see what your carefree grin looks like again... and your shining eyes..._

_Bloody hell, Jimmy. The dreamy soldier is *getting* to you, and that *can’t happen*._

_I feel myself growing resentful - well, maybe I *liked* how it felt to relax for once in my fucking life. Maybe my mind *needs* this to recharge, and think clearly. Ever think of that, genius??_

_Bloody fucking hell. I’m yelling at myself now. Maybe I can put off the impending breakdown for a while? I have bigger things to deal with. And if that means enjoying the company of a roguishly handsome soldier boy, who’s going to stop me?_

_“It wasn’t like a *demon*, no. Just - darkness. Like - a Void. It felt peaceful...” I wince. I really don’t like sharing about my inner workings, and I’ve already done more than enough of that today._

_Wait. Wait wait wait... “If I was 19 when all this started... and you were 25 when you first started seeing him... it started for both of us at about the same time. What phenomenon could have caused this? Did it affect other people too, or... just us? And why us?? What’s *our* connection?”_

_I stare at you, feeling shaken. I’m not used to thinking of being subject to cosmic forces, and I *don’t like it*._

_But I *especially* don’t like it when there’s a sense of some force bringing us *together*. It smacks of ‘soulmate’ drivel, and I am *not* having it..._

"Yes... god this is starting to sound like a Stephen King novel. We're going to go on the internet and find out that there are hundreds of people all over the world who started seeing the Man at the same time, which was when a particularly strong solar flare briefly reversed the earth's polarity or something - don't look like that; I don't know, I read history.

But - unless there are dozens of people who look like you, it seems that you must be a special case among those hypothetical hundreds.

Now if there are _no_ other people, and it's just us two - still the most likely idea seems to be that we both hallucinated the same guy, and that would be because I saw you before... but I can't recall, and I hadn't been in London for a year and a half by then, and I hadn't been to Ireland since I was sixteen... at which point you were ten, and would hardly have looked anything like the Man."

_“God... it does sound like a Stephen King plot...” I snigger, despite myself. “Is a mysterious grizzled stranger going to show up and deliver a cryptic clue, I wonder...?” You smile back at me. Mmm. There’s that thousand-watt grin that lights up your face._

_Fuck’s *sake*, Jimmy..._

_“What were you doing in *Ireland*?” I ask, trying to distract myself._

"Oh, nothing - just a holiday. Staying with some friends of the family on the coast in County Kerry - it was alright actually. I was already a fitness nut, so I spent my days walking the MacGillycuddy's Reeks with the family's dogs and swimming in the sea. Spent as little time as possible in the mansion with its endless teas and suppers. My dad and I were pretty much on a constant war footing at the time, and he mostly left me alone as long as I didn't get in direct trouble - I guess he preferred me walking the mountains over getting pissed and stoned in the punk clubs of London. Though there was a barn where the local kids would gather and get pissed on cheap cider and beer and shag behind the hay," I grin.

_I take this in and file it away under ‘Tiger - Past - Adolescence’._

_“Mansion. Swimming in the sea. *Endless* teas...” I say with great sarcasm, and roll my eyes. “Ireland in a nutshell.”_

_The thought of fecking aristocrats and their fecking holidays..._

_Makes me want to blow something up._

_I glance at my phone. Not enough time to get into much mischief before sleep overtakes me._

_“It’s getting late. Order us some Thai food,” I say, bored. “There’s a take-out menu in the kitchen drawer on the far right of the island. My choices are circled. I have an account - order what you like for yourself and give them Richard’s name. I’m taking a shower.” I get up, and don’t bother glancing back as I head towards the bathroom._

What did I do now? I thought we were trying to make a battle plan?

And I need a shower too - should I join you? Or will you just be pissed off?

Well fuck this - you just cut me open. You can at least allow me to wash myself and then clean the cuts.

I follow you into the shower, hiss at the jets of boiling water, but I don't dare ask you to turn it down, lest you tell me to fuck off out of your shower.

_I was just feeling a twinge of something that I don’t care to look at too closely. I need to take care of those cuts - stupid. I know you can do it yourself. But - I struggle for a moment with this unfamiliar feeling._

_Then the door swings open, and you appear - naked, beautiful, smeared with blood... a deviant, scowling Adonis._

_You get into the shower with an arched eyebrow, and say nothing. But you’re clearly not enjoying the blast of hot water against your skin and wounds._

_I roll my eyes. This is how I like it - if you’re going to barge in, expect heat._

_“My word, what a mess you are,” I say, loftily - and hand you body wash and a loofah. “I guess we’ve learned the dangers of following beautiful strangers home, hmm?”_

"Yeah, not doing that again," I grin, taking the loofah and pouring soap on it, then rubbing it across your neck and shoulders. "Next stranger I'm following home is going to be ugly. Plain, at most."

_*What*?_

_I stare at you hard. Your grin doesn’t falter._

_Oh, I *see*... making a little joke, are we?_

_“If you even *consider* following a stranger home...” I drawl. “I will cut your heart out, dearest...”_

_I stare at the ‘x’ over your heart, still raw and oozing blood, and my fingers trail over it. And then my tongue._

_“And look, I already created a little treasure map...” I whisper darkly. I stare up at you, smiling._

_“Oh I know, you were making a joke, Tiger... I can be *funny*, too.”_

_I turn and let my head fall back onto your shoulder, eyes closed. “Just remember every bit of you is mine. And if I want to take something, I *will*, darling...”_

_I rub my body against yours as the water runs over us both. Feeling strangely content with your strong warm body against mine, I sigh with pleasure._

Oh, I know, my beautiful psycho... No following strangers home... only perhaps to kill them. I don't want to be subjected to your particular sense of humour.

At the moment, you seem happy to be washed while leaning against me, though. It's a bit awkward, but I can reach most of your arms and chest, and am enjoying the sleek smooth sliding of the soap over your silky skin, the strong supple muscles just underneath, your chest nearly hairless, like a boy's, your trim stomach.

I lay my cheek against your hair, and, for a moment, just hold you as the hot water pours over us.


	10. Companion of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He comes to the fist pylon. He speaks. Lady of terror, whose heart is a wall, mistress of destruction. Lady of alarm, ruin and despair, too-wise bird of no good omen. Priestess and dancer whose words are fires that crackle and spit in a man's face. Lady of rage, she creates nightmares by the thousands. She spins. With a black word she drives back the serpent ant the traveller goes on his way. Her name is "Vulture Mother of Terror." Blessed is the lady.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, Chapter CXLVI. Translation Normandi Ellis.

_I had thought lying on the stairs and smoking in bed was relaxing..._

_I didn’t know what I was in for, being bathed by you, *held* by you... feeling physical contact that isn’t sexual. Well, *overtly* sexual..._

_But it seems our bodies have a natural response when we’re in close proximity, because I’m making a pleased, purring sound in my throat... and *you* are getting slightly hard already._

_My lips part into a smile._

_“What is it that does it for you, Tiger?” I murmur. “Serving my needs... or being threatened by me?“ I raise my arm back to stroke your jaw, and my voice drops a register. “Or is it... being owned, and bossed about by a tyrant?” I turn my head to look at you with a sly smile. “Either way... are *you* in for a treat...”_

Jesus. First hypnotherapy, now psychoanalysis?

"I don't know... I can honestly say I've never done anything like this - those other scars were very much non-consensual. And I really can't imagine enjoying it if anyone else would do these things... but with you, it's just -" I shake my head. "You're quite enchanting, you know that? Are you sure that you aren't the Man; some supernatural creature ensnaring handsome strangers into your web?"

_I raise my hand to my chest, and my mouth drops open theatrically. “Enchanting? Well, aren’t you a gentleman?” I chuckle, and move away from you so you can continue bathing me. “I’ve never been called enchanting before... or accused of being a supernatural creature in the next breath. It would explain a lot, wouldn’t it! Mystery solved!” I giggle. “Oh there’s the little matter of what the fuck my motive is... and why I can’t remember a bloody thing. Damn - we were so close to cracking the case...”_

"Well, if you had a word with my former commanding officers, you'd hear just how much of a miracle-worker you are, to get Sebastian Moran to respect authority," I grin. "I did as I was told, of course - I wanted what the army could give me, and if you don't follow orders, they don't let you blow stuff up and shoot people - but one of the officers - one of the few good ones - once told me that I had the capacity to make 'Yes, Sir' sound like the most grievous insult ever."

Until I _didn't_ do what I was told, and was kicked out, and thought my life was over –

and here I am, with yet another unreasonable tyrant likely to get me killed. He's a damn sight more sexy than the major though.

I kneel onto the bathroom floor to wash your legs and feet.

_There’s only one thing better than a hot, beautiful soldier submitting to me._

_A hot, beautiful, normally *defiant* soldier submitting to me._

_As you lower yourself to your knees and continue to bathe me, I bliss out utterly._

_God... did I really just find you in my bed one morning??_

_I’m in such a good mood that when you finish up, I shampoo your hair._

_Feeling your foamy hair under my fingers, I realize that we’ve touched each other more in the space of a shower than we did all the times we’ve fucked..._

_I order you out of the shower, and tell you to sit your arse down on the toilet so I can take care of your wounds. First the new ones... I clean and bandage the cuts, before rubbing a healing salve onto the lash marks. Then I get you to turn so I can check the wounds on your back. Your ‘M’ looks less angry, and the healing process is well underway._

_“This will look *stunning*, once it’s healed up,” I say admiringly. My fingers stroke around the red lines. “And to think you were iffy about it at the time, Sebastian...” I chide._

I practically purr with all the sweet care you're giving me. You look so beautiful when you do it, concentrating fully on the task at hand, healing me...

it's ridiculous that this is making me feel all warm and fuzzy, as you're the one who cut me up in the first place... oh well.

"Was I? Can't quite remember, Sir... it was all a bit of a blur, what with the amnesia and the whipping and the cutting and the fucking by a guy who I didn't even know by name..."

Fuck, we're insane.

_Yes. Quite. Maybe now is a good time to realize that you should get away from this madman before he cuts your throat for real next time??_

Mmm... sounds sensible.

But then when have I ever listened to common sense...

And anyway, I seem to be connected to him _somehow_. In some weird cosmic game the gods play...

"So... any idea yet of what we should do tonight?"

_Good question..._

_“If only there was some way of recording what we get up to...” I muse, as I finish dressing your wounds. “But I’ve already tried videotaping and that didn’t work... you were supposed to tail me, and that didn’t work. Maybe I should get security to tail us both... of course they couldn’t get too close, because I always seem to know... and *you* might end up killing them... so I couldn’t send anyone I want to keep as an employee...”_

_I tap your shoulder. “You’re done. Did you order dinner before you crashed my shower?”_

Whoops. "No. Sorry. I thought I needed to get clean first - I'll order it now."

_Well, of course you needed to get clean first... and if you had not, I would have taken you to task for it. But there’s nothing like impossible demands to keep someone unsettled, and urgently trying to please you._

_I sigh dramatically. “No problem, Tiger- we’ll just wait for another 30-60 minutes. Make it 30 minutes.” I lean in and stare at you seductively. “Working you over makes me *ravenous*...” I raise an eyebrow, get up without another word, and saunter naked into the bedroom._

_I realize as I slip into my black kimono (printed with tigers! How prescient...) I said not ‘made me ravenous’ but ‘makes me’._

_*Makes me*... however ill-advised this may be... you’re slowly, seamlessly becoming part of the fabric of life._

_I run my hands over the embroidered tigers on the silky black fabric, and stare searchingly at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I feel as much a stranger to myself as the mysterious doppelgänger from my waking dream..._

I'm ravenous too. And I could do with some food.

I put on some black tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt, head to the kitchen, find the menu, order your preferences and some for myself, not even trying to mangle the names; fortunately the numbers are sufficient. I ask if they deliver drinks as well, because I completely forgot to pick up groceries on our way back from the hypnotherapy. Luckily they do, so I order some beers and a bottle of white wine to go with your fish.

As I walk into the living room, you're sitting there on your phone, and I nearly gasp at how gorgeous you look. A casual posture on the sofa, one leg up, one dangling, your hair sleekly hanging without product, a black silk dressing gown accentuating your pale skin and black hair - wow. And - are those _tigers_? Heh - do you have a thing for tigers?

I hand you a glass of water and lower myself onto a comfy chair, pick _The First Crusade_ back up. "Food will be here in half an hour."

You grunt, not looking up from your phone.

_Thirty minutes passes, and I sigh and look at you pointedly - as though you were to blame for every step of the food’s journey from growing and hunting the individual ingredients, to cooking it, to delivering it. By thirty-one minutes, I’m tapping my bare foot impatiently. By thirty-two minutes, I’m drumming my fingers incessantly on the table. You keep looking up from your book with an exasperated look, and I don’t know which of us is likely to snap first. But I do know it will be entertaining. Then the intercom buzzes and we stare at each other. I wave you off to go take care of it._

_By the time you arrive with the bags bursting with food containers, I’m in the kitchen, lounging in a chair._

_You put a container in front of me, and I look at it like you threw a dead animal on the table and told me to dig in._

_“Do I *look* like I eat out of cardboard and plastic?” I say scathingly. “Get plates and silverware.”_

_Then I return to scowling at my phone._

Annoying little git, aren't you? Fortunately for you I have _many years_ of practice in not getting worked up by short-tempered orders.

I find plates, cutlery, and glasses, serve your starter of spring rolls and mine of pork belly onto plates, pour you a glass of cool wine and myself a beer.

"Enjoy your meal, Sir."

I nearly don't sound snarky.

_I take a bite, and chew with pleasure, then wash it down with wine._

_Mmm. Good._

_I stare at your starter. What are you eating? It looks delicious._

_When you’re distracted by drinking your beer, I sneak a piece from your plate and nibble it delicately._

_My ‘mood’ dissipates as it melts on my tongue._

_“What is that?” I demand, eyeing your plate. “It’s delicious...”_

_I glance at you innocently and move my hand towards my wine, then snake it closer to your plate._

"It's pork belly," I grin. It is a very well done pork belly, I must admit. Of course you would have London's most expensive Thai restaurant as your regular deliverer - but it's a good Thai restaurant.

You are doing a very poor job of sneakily approaching my plate, like a cat who thinks that if he doesn't look at you you won't notice his paw getting closer and closer.

"Would you like some?"

_“Why else would I be stealing it? Just to be prickish?” I drawl, and pull your entire plate towards me. Taking a bite, I look at you triumphantly._

I _also_ have many years of practice with guys stealing my food, Jim... You’ve left your own plate woefully underdefended. I grin, pick up one of your spring rolls, and munch it. "Hmmm..."

_My mouth drops open and I feign horror._

_“Never a good idea to steal from the boss, darling..."_

_I take my fork and place it against your neck. "Or from a psychopath..." I purr, and then remove it only to lean in and lick your neck._

_"But I'm feeling generous today..." I say in a lofty manner, and push your plate back towards you. "Must be the reckless sex...what *were* you thinking, Tiger? " I grin, and pop a spring roll in my mouth._

"If you wanted spring rolls _and_ pork belly why didn't you order them?" I grin, but move some from my plate to yours as I steal another spring roll. "One of the benefits of having a dinner date - you can eat two dishes without getting full up."

_Dinner *date*?_

_Careful, darling..._

_I would take you to task but... I'm in a good mood again, and - oh yes, there's that smile of yours that lights up the room..._

_Jesus... write him a fecking poem, why don't you, Jimmy?_

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night...

_Maybe I'll compose a limerick later, I think and snigger._

_You look at me questioningly._

_"None of your business, darling," I say, and sip my wine._

Fair enough. Have your inner jokes.

I serve our main courses, a fish curry for you and spare ribs for me, and top up your wine.

"So - for some reason, I told you that your brother told me that he would tell you what's going on tonight. What did you make of that?"

_I shake my head, scowling. ‘It’s convoluted. That’s what I make of it...”_

_I stab a piece of fish. “I mean... how am I *supposed* to take that? Should I prepare midnight tea for him? Or am I meeting him somewhere?? Will I somehow know the details when I sleepwalk, or is he going to find *me*?”_

_Spears of black fury shoot through me. “And how do I not take that as a threat? The answer is, I *do*,” I growl, and shove the fish into my mouth. “Only - I don’t know how to defend myself, if my bodyguard is also traipsing around town...” I mutter. “I need to have other security tailing *both* of us...”_

"I'm sure you've tried that before... so how did that go?"

_“Some incident would always happen that got in the way... and they’d lose me...” I sigh. My hands curl into fists. “I went through a lot of security before I realized it wasn’t incompetence. But maybe if they tailed you, it would be different...”_

"It's worth a try, but yeah, don't put your best men onto it..." I muse, tearing some meat off my ribs. "I've never dealt with a situation like this before, needless to say. I'd say I can tail _anyone_ without them noticing - but that doesn't take into account supernatural somnambulism."

I sigh. "I assume you've tried carrying a recording or tracking device?"

"Yup. Took it off and left it next to my bed," you shrug.

"So - sleepwalking you doesn't want waking you to know what you get up to. But waking you wants to know, for obvious reasons.

Sleepwalking you started off when you were nineteen, and met a man who looked like you, who took you over for a spell.

At the same time, I see for the first time a man who looks like that same man, or like you, on a different continent, happily walking toward an inferno, that some other guy walks _out_ of. In hypnosis, I tell you this guy is your brother, which I never considered before. Neither guy is seen by anyone else.

When you come out of the hypnosis, you tell the therapist you're a son of her Goddess, and your eyes shine pitch black for a moment. And hypnosis is like sleep - so - it's like you _do_ change into that man when you sleep or are hypnotized?"

I'm thinking out loud, but I keep going in circles...

_I drop my fork on my plate and it makes a loud clanging noise._

_I cover my eyes with my hand._

_“Round and around and around we go... where we’re headed doesn’t make *fucking sense*,” I growl._

_I uncover my eyes, and steeple my fingers. “Alright, let’s go over this nonsense. I turn into or am possessed by this guy, who you’ve also seen in countries I’ve not been to, at least not at the same times as you. He has some kind of effect on people and recording devices and wipes out my memory - except fragments that feel like dreams. He prances around fiery war zones according to you, and hasn’t been hurt. And he informs the hypnotherapist that he’s the son of a *goddess*. And he has numerous siblings. What are sons of goddesses? Gods or demi-gods... Fuck. I should have asked who her goddess was, but I was too annoyed... maybe I should email her. Look what my life has become...” I sigh, and throw back a glass of wine._

_“Or maybe my brother dearest will clear everything up for us...” I stare at a piece of fish angrily, and take a savage bite._

"Yes but even if he does - he may well have done so before, and waking-you doesn't remember. Your dear brother should come over _now_ , or write you a letter, rather than explaining things to sleeping Jim. And again, how do I fit into this? What made the Man connect to me in Afghanistan, and later in other places, but never speak to me, and not affect my sleep, until I met you? And who is this guy that I said was his brother that I only saw once?"

Ugh - I don't like mysteries. At least not ones where you can't just read to the end of the book and see who done it.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I can try to stay awake again tonight. I can get some speed or something. Just because I fell asleep once, doesn't mean I will again..."

But I _never_ fall asleep on the job.

_“Fuck this, darling... If I think about it too much, I’m going to get very angry...” I say blithely, and steal a spare rib from your plate._

_Mmm. Also delicious._

_When I’m done tearing the flesh off the bone, I steal another one._

I steal some of your fish. You try to stab me with your fork but I'm too fast.

"Right. I'll try to stay awake again, and we'll see what happens. It's all we can do for now," I shrug as I devour the fish.

I look up the number of my dealer, text him for some speed, tell him I'll meet him at Hyde Park Corner in an hour. It’s worth a try.

_I watch you with a raised eyebrow. “What kind of recreational substances do you normally take, darling? Because you are *not* doing that kind of shit here... after tonight... unless it’s something fun I can take, too. Which is rare, but once in a blue moon, perhaps...” I stare at you lazily. “Gotta protect the genius brain, but I’m hardly a puritan...”_

"This is hardly recreational," I say, irked. "You want me to stay awake or not? Coffee didn't do it, so I'm going for the harder stuff. You can protect your precious brain all you like, but I am a soldier and I get the job done."

I didn't last night, and that vexes me to no end. I am going to tonight.

_“So *testy*, darling...” I rebuke you mildly. “There’s only ever been one moody queen in this household... and my moods take up a *lot* of room. If you’re going to have a moment, just make sure to give me a wide berth.” I drain my wine glass, and smile at you fiercely._

_“Enjoy your speed, then. I wonder if it would affect me?” I ponder._

"You haven't tried drugs to stay awake? Or - sleeping all day, or something?"

_“I tried lots of things, darling... coffee... sleeping all day... setting alarms at night... I did try prescription medication, but strangely I never thought to try street drugs. Maybe I should do some coke instead...” I grin. “Game?”_

I shrug. "If you want to, sure. But if you've tried all that and it hasn't worked, and whatever it is even scrambles your electronics, I doubt that coke is going to beat it."

_I shrug. “Trial and error, darling...”_

_I consider this for a moment. I wonder what you’d be like on coke. I could add more information about you to my mind map, which is of interest to me._

_And yes, I’m willing to try more to see how it affects this outlandish situation I’ve been in for so long. Anything’s better than continuing like this._

_“I’ll place a call to *my* dealer for the coke... premium quality, of course. I’m afraid I can’t trust that someone you meet in Hyde Park will deliver the same. Does he have a jaunty name like Blaze or Blade or something?”_

I roll my eyes. "His name is Quentin, and he's a perfectly normal bloke. Has a law degree, actually. And I'd normally meet him at his place, but that's a bit far from here, so he's doing me a favour coming out to Hyde Park Corner. And I'll stick with the speed - you'll have to keep taking the coke to stay awake. And thirdly, wasn't the whole point of this exercise me tailing you to find out where you go when you sleepwalk, rather than both of us staying up through the night?"

Though that could well be fun...

_I look up from my phone mid-text to one of my suppliers for the Empire._

_“Yes, yes... speed for you tonight, coke for us tomorrow. Go meet with Quincy, enjoy your stroll through the park. Just remember our little conversation about what parts of you are not to touch *anyone*...” My hand curls around your wrist like a claw. “And oh, I neglected to include your arse, because it would have been too crass for such a deeply romantic moment...” I bat my eyelashes at you. “If anyone touches that beautiful arse of yours, they’ll be in pieces. Do you need to write any of this down?”_

_I give you a distracted smile and finish texting my cocaine order._

I manage to keep my eye roll purely internal. God, you _are_ possessive...

"I'll text Quantum that we'll have to forego our customary rogering and I'll pay with old-fashioned money instead," I reply. "I'll also wear gloves so my hand doesn't inadvertently touch his and ruins my innocence. Should I put on a face-veil as well?"

_I hit Send, and my mind registers something about - a veil?? I look up in irritation. “What? Are you still here?”_

“We’re having dinner. Don’t you want your dessert?” I take the container of mango and sticky rice, put some in a bowl. You nod absent-mindedly.

_You spoon the remainder of my sticky rice into a bowl, then push it across the table. I watch as it slides and comes to a stop in front of me. Well, at least you got the point about not eating out of takeaway containers like savages._

_I take a sensual bite, slowly pulling the spoon from my mouth with a slight moan. My eyelids flutter shut as I chew the creamy, coconutty concoction with bits of sweet juicy mango._

_“One of the most delicious things to devour in all creation...” I sigh dreamily, and swallow. When my eyes open, I see you staring at me in fascination. “Present company excluded, of course,” I say, and take another bite._

_Fuck_ , you're so mercurial... and instead of irritating I find it mesmerizing. And - very sexy.

I realize I have some food too, but watching you eat is much more enticing. Is this - a come-on? We've only just - but I could definitely - if you –

_Ohhh... already hungering for more? I lick the spoon, and look at you with half-closed eyes. Then I hand you my empty wine glass with a smile._

_“Keep it in your pants, Moran. I just washed off your bodily fluids less than an hour ago.”_

"And you're begging for more by the looks of things... or do you always eat your sweet like that?"

_I consider this with a small smile, and drop a piece of mango into my mouth with a purr of pleasure. “Actually, yes...”_

_Then I put my wine glass down and drop my spoon onto my plate with a loud *clang*._

_“And the only one who’ll be *begging* for more around here is you, honey.” I lean forward on the table, and move my hand over your neck... your jaw... your cheek... and then through your hair, before I tighten my fingers through it. “My hungry... greedy... Tiger...” I say in a breathy voice._

I can totally see you eating like a cam girl regardless of audience... you do love unnerving people. And turning them on...

What can I do? I close my eyes, lean my head back into your hand...

_Mmm. Tiger..._

_seeing you helpless against my charms is such a heady thing..._

_and it’s altogether alarming that I find myself coming around to your side, shoving plates out of the way, climbing over onto your lap, spilling beer as I do..._

_As I feel it splash against us, I growl and we lock eyes..._

_Then I yank your head back and bite your neck hard - then suddenly we’re both kissing and pawing at each other, and I’m scrambling to take control, and as I push against you the chair starts to fall back-_

_Well, fuck..._

_Whoa_ \- you're all over me which is delicious but then the world takes a sudden twist as gravity decides it wants a piece of me too. You let go of me and I jump - the chair clatters to the floor, but I'm upright.

"Always making a mess, Tiger..." you shake your head, grab me, sweep your arm across the table, crashing crockery and food everywhere, and push me down. I pull you against me, and you climb on, push up my shirt, which I shrug out of the way.

_“I would have thought you’d want some time to heal, Tiger,” I say, staring down at your chest with the red lash marks. Fuck that looks good..._

_I shrug. “Oh well...”_

_I lean down, bite your collarbone, and kiss down to your nipple which I also bite. My hand moves down to your cock, which I already feel is good and hard under your trousers. “Mmm... so eager...” I murmur, and my lips move back up to your neck._

Heal? Yeah? Does sex with you _have_ to involve breaking skin? And if so, why don't I have more skin to break, because _god_ I want you to...

"I know this may sound hideously kinky, Sir, but - you might consider fucking without too much injury?"

Not that I care, and I _want_ you to hurt me, but I can't think of any place that's not yet scarred...

_I look down at you, grinning. “Oh, that *does* sound kinky... relax, Sebbie... I’ll be sooo gentle and sweet, if that does it for you...”_

_I slowly lick your neck, making you moan. Then I look down at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, and swoop down for a feverish kiss. Let’s see how *this* affects you, I think with pleasure._

It's not that that does it for me - I'm just uncertain how long I will survive if you work me over every time you have an erection...

And then you kiss me hungrily and that wipes my brain; your eager tongue demanding access, your hand exploring my chest, the other one on my cock, fuck I _want_ you -

I lift my hand, pull at your shirt, manage to get it off so that our chests touch, your hot smooth skin on mine, your impish smile as you dive down onto my neck again, bite my earlobe - _fuck_ \- "Jim -"

_The sound of my name on your lips - god... it sets my head on fire._

_So much so that I don't even admonish you for not calling me Sir. But then - you're not tied up, you're not being whipped... looks like we're on our way to a good old-fashioned rutting on the kitchen table. Fascinating - these types of exchanges don't usually affect me this much. But with you, my libido seems to be in hyperdrive... as evidenced by how quickly I slide off my sweatpants, and then get impatient as you try to remove yours with me straddling you - I raise my bottom off your pelvis with regret, and yank your waistband down over your hips - freeing your hard cock, and then your luscious long muscled legs as I peel your sweatpants off and throw them onto the floor..._

_My cock rubs against yours, and I moan as your lips devour mine..._

This is so different from your carefully controlled exploration of pain... we're like two teenagers overcome with lust and desperate to take their pleasure, lips crushing against teeth, hands grasping skin, moans drifting from one mouth into another - and I'm delighted to see that you want me as much as I want you; you're not playing, not manipulating me, you're as desperate as I am -

"Jim - Sir-" I remember, "I want you - fuck..."

_"Fuck... yes..." I mutter. I start to throw your leg against my shoulder, then I remember - lube. Jesus._

_I glance down at the floor. "I don't suppose *Nam Jim* will suffice..." I groan._

_"Huh?" you respond, looking at me in confusion._

_"Dipping sauce," I growl. "It's all over the floor now anyway... for fuck’s sake..." I kiss you hard. "Go get some oil from the counter," I order, and roll off you. Then I lie back, with my head resting in my hands. "Well?"_

Oh - yeah - right. Oil. _Not_ the chilli oil - there, olive oil. Extra virgin. Well it won’t be for much longer.

I move back to the table, can't resist your cock standing proudly erect waiting for me - I move my head down, lick a leisurely path from the stem to the tip, then take it into my mouth as I twist the cap off the bottle, take you deep as I pour some oil onto my hand, lick around the tip for a bit before replacing my mouth with my hand, rubbing oil over your cock, smoothly working my hand round until you are all slick and glistening.

_God... your mouth on me is so insanely good... I need to start demanding blow jobs from you. Often._

_But right now I just want to fuck you raw..._

_I stare at you as you rub oil onto my cock, breathing deeply - then I cup a hand and extend it to you._

_You look at me and pour a small pool of oil into my palm. I gesture at you to crawl over me - when you do I reach back and insert a fingertip into you, then slowly slide it in further. Your eyes close and your lips part. I feel your muscles tightening... relaxing to let me in... twitching against my finger... your body is tense and actually quivering..._

_"Gentle enough for you, honey?" I purr._

_You moan a curse, and I grin. I take my time sliding in a second finger, before making a devastatingly slow 'come hither' motion. God, it's killing me going this slow, but the effect on you is priceless..._

Fuck off, Jim, I wish you could tear me open, but I need this body a bit longer... what _is_ this mental desire to be hurt by you? I mean, yeah, I knew I have some masochist tendencies, but if anyone would have come near me with a knife before I'd have decked them... but with you, I can only groan with lust.

Anyway, I'm groaning with lust now, and there's no knife in sight. Your face, so gorgeous, nearly otherworldly, elfin in its beauty and its arrogance...

I buckle as you finger me, and I _want_ , I _need_ -

I move myself down towards you, move closer, reach down, take your cock - look at you -

you arch an eyebrow, move your hand, and I lower myself down, position you, sink lower - yes - god Jim –

_Ohh, getting confident, are we? I make a mental note to keep an eye on that, but the feeling of your body sliding down over my cock pushes the thought out of my mind completely and my head falls back against the table... my eyes close, and I groan at the sweet sensation of your flesh sinking down against mine - surrounding me, squeezing me..._

_"Fuuuuck," I hear, and I realize with a shock it was me._

_God... you've just started, Jimmy. Try to hold back a lit-_

_"Jesus," I groan, as you move up and then sink down again._

_Oh god... did I miscalculate?? I think desperately. Quick - turn this around._

_"Stop moving, soldier," I whisper, and you do, partway, as you're sliding up. My eyes open and then widen as we lock gazes._

_Breaking eye contact, I grab your hips and dig my nails into your skin. Then I push up into you, and relish how ecstasy sweeps across your face._

_"Continue," I order, and brace myself for the onslaught of pleasure as you move down onto my cock. I can handle this, I can handle it, oh... *god*..._

_Soldier_...

I'm a soldier again. After losing the army, here I find myself.

 _Your_ soldier.

I stare at you as I lower myself, your face so inscrutable, with only little tell-tale signs of the fact that you have your cock in my arse and are enjoying the experience - your eyes slightly narrowed, your breathing slightly faster, your tongue flicking over your lips - _fuck_ you're the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.

I move up again, down, following your fingers pushing into my hips, letting you guide the rhythm as I stare at your beautiful face, as much as I can, when I'm not squeezing my eyes shut with pleasure - you feel so. Fucking. Good. I've fucked a lot of guys but none of them have come anywhere _close_.

_God oh *god*... how is this so *good*? How did I not see how *dangerous* this is? I think urgently._

_"Stop," I snap, and you go still. I move my hands under my head again, and stare up at you._

_"You want more?" I ask, and you nod with a shaky breath._

_"In a moment, Tiger..." I murmur. I feel your muscles quiver, and then a slight shift of your hips. "Don't move, I said..." I warn. Your eyes close in concentration, and a muscle in your jaw clenches. A smile spreads across my face._

What the -

You want to take a leisurely break? _Now?_ Lying there like you're lazing on the beach, with me halfway down your cock - what is this, a test of self-control? I have that, James Moriarty... but that doesn't mean I like it...

I look down at you, relaxed and alert like a cat, a cocky half-grin on your face, studying me perched in mid-air.

_"What's wrong, Sebbie?" I coo. "Oh, I see... you want things *your* way... If I demand something 'unreasonable' of you, you're going to sulk? Aww...*honey*..." I dig my nails into your hips with a feral smile. "That's not going to work... I suggest you think about how *good* it will feel... when I'm finally fucking that sweet arse of yours again..." I whisper and push up slightly, feeling you squeeze around me. "Now... what matters more to you, Tiger - your pleasure or mine?" I say in a rough whisper._

Ungh - oh, fuck, just push a bit further...

"Yours, Sir..." I pant, keeping very still.

_I push slightly farther._

_“Say it again...” I growl._

Fuck, you megalomaniac possessive little tyrant...

Fuck, you're hot...

"Yours, Sir - your pleasure. Is what I'm for..."

_I push in just a touch deeper, and a bead of perspiration forms on my forehead. God, now I'm tormenting myself along with you, but it will be worth it when we unleash..._

_Just another moment, Tiger... you're soooo good..._

_"Yesss, darling... *more*..." I croon._

More? More what? More narcissist catnip, before you are satisfied that your plaything is totally yours, and will continue playing?

“I’m yours... completely yours, every part of me... to use as you wish... yours and yours alone...”

Fuck it turns me on to say it...

_*God*... Tiger... *yes*..._

_I forget the plan to torment the Tiger, and surge into you, making us both groan._

_"Yesss, you're mine... all of you, every bit..." I whisper raggedly. "Now *ride my cock*, Tiger..."_

_Jesus... if this were a cartoon, I'd have big black heart-eyes..._

_When did this get so... *passionate*??_

_Just as I'm thinking this, you move up and down against my cock, wrenching a moan out of me..._

_oh... god... so *good*..._

Ohhhh yes god thank you -

Your cock fills me up and I groan as you hit the spot...

 _ride my cock Tiger_ -

"Yes, Sir..."

I start moving up and down, and you groan, look at me with burning eyes, eyes which tear the skin off me, pierce straight through me, see my heart and soul... reflect the darkness in the black of the pupils...

I move up and down, guided by your fingers, the rhythm _just right_ , the table moving with my strokes - a vision of the table collapsing and us ending up among broken crockery flashes through my mind, but I ignore it - the table will hold, nothing would _dare_ interrupt this.

_I’ve never had an experience like this... I feel like I’m pinioned against the table - the intensity of the physical sensation, our eyes locked onto each other, has a piercing effect, like I’ve been staked to the table - but *I’m* not supposed to feel this way. I see the effect on you, which is as it should be - it’s not supposed to affect me, too!_

_I try to struggle against it, but it’s like being on a runaway horse - all you can do is hold on for dear life, and hope you’re not broken into pieces by the end._

_My ears fill with the sound of the table legs grinding against the floor, our bodies slapping together, our primal grunts and moans... and all I can see is the tempestuous blue ocean in your eyes... god, I never knew sex could be like this... so dirty-sweet and glorious..._

_“Fuck... *Tiger*,” I mutter, as I shove into you hard._

_How much better will it be if I - one way to find out. Grabbing your cock, I begin to stroke._

Oh - _fuck_ \- I clench my muscles as you reach for my cock, your other hand still guiding the desired rhythm, and I am off - I am galloping towards the beckoning abyss, and will hurtle myself headlong into it - but I have to make sure you come first -

I give a strangled groan, and look at you desperately - please –

_I shift to have better leverage by moving my knees up on either side of you, which makes you shift too, and I hit a sweet spot that makes you groan loudly and squeeze around me, oh *god* that feels good, and then we’re off to the races, moving against each other hard and fast, and there’s no exerting control as I did before - my body has taken over; I couldn’t fathom stopping this mad, primal fuck that has us gasping and moaning like porn stars._

_“God- Sebast-” I cut myself off with a sharp cry as the shivers suddenly overtake me, transforming into violent shudders... and the last thing I see before I disappear into mindless, writhing pleasure is your widening eyes... your sensual mouth falling open... your face swept away in a rush of ecstasy..._

I'm delighted beyond belief seeing how affected you are... you're letting yourself go in pleasure rather than keeping a firm hold on all proceedings, and it's the most beautiful sight - your face screwed up in ecstasy, your breaths shallow, stammering my name as you reach your apex -

a _cry_ -

your face, so beautiful, lost in the daunting expanse of your pleasure, almost uncertain if you can take it - and then I can't see anything any more, because my own orgasm sweeps over me and my head falls back, my eyes screw shut, and I _roar_...

_The *sound* you make, that beautiful raw primal roar, seems to rise up from such a deep, dark place, like it’s been roiling under the surface for a very long time..._

_it actually shocks me out of the descent from my own orgasm - and my eyes fly open to watch you writhing over me._

_Jesus Christ, you are so hot... so *beautiful*..._

_You start to collapse but manage to partly hold yourself up, and I turn my head to the side so you can’t see my expression. Fuck... it’s just sex, Jimmy..._

_Yeah it’s unlike any sex I *ever* imagined before..._

_but it’s *just sex*. And I can handle it..._

_*I’ll handle it*, I tell myself firmly._

_Then I feel your warm, damp body trembling against mine, and I push your shoulder. You rise off me, and fall to the side, breathing hard. As my cock leaves your body, I feel like I’ve lost something... and there’s a feeling of emptiness in the pit of my stomach._

_I lay panting on the table, staring at the ceiling._

_*This is why humans are ridiculous*, I think loftily, trying to stem the desperate feelings struggling to break free and clamping down on them decisively._

_*And why we are above them*..._

_But a strange disconcerting feeling is wriggling around in my insides, and try as I might, I can’t get a hold of it to squelch it._

_Ignoring this, I turn to you. “Aren’t you going to smoke?” I ask airily._

Smoke?

I'm staring at the ceiling, trying to gather my wits from where they're scattered across the universe.

 _Fuck_...

Sex with you is - it's unlike anything I've ever experienced before. I've had sex - _lots_ of sex - with lots of people - but - it was just - just a pleasant, heady rush, sharing an orgasm with someone, then moving on. The closest I've ever come to this was sex on E - the intensity of the sensations, the-

\- intimacy -

-

 _Don't go there, Sebastian_...

Smoke. Yes.

I get off the table, avoiding pottery shards, scramble for my trousers, fish out my fags and lighter, and get back to lying next to you before I light up.

_I glance down at the floor as you fumble for your ciggies._

_“Quite the zone of chaos and destruction you’re leaving in your wake,” I comment. “What’s next, you’re going to set the living room on fire?”_

_You give me a wry look as you light up and take a long drag. Exhaling smoke, you pass me the cigarette and arch an eyebrow. Yes, I know I chose to cut you on the stairs, and knock all the crockery to the floor. What of it?_

_“Have you got something to say, Tiger?” I croon, and put the cigarette between my lips. My hand falls away for a moment, then floats up to stroke your cheek. “Hmm?”_

_The shock of warm skin makes my eyes widen. Here we are sexually sated (twice in quick succession) and your skin still feels so - inviting... luscious... sweet to the touch... what is that??_

"Nothing at all Sir. To be fair, I did specialize in demolitions, Sir. Can blow your house up all nice and tidily, Sir," I grin. I feel my skin hot where your hand was. What is that? I'm not -

Sebastian Patrick Moran, you're not _blushing_ , are you?

I take the cigarette back, take a deep drag.

I have to leave soon, get to Hyde Park Corner. I wonder what this night will bring... at least it's off to a good start.

When I hand you the cigarette, our little fingers stroke together, and again I feel my face get flushed. God damn it Moran. Get yourself together.

_When I see a flush on the cheek I just touched, a smile flickers on my lips. Are you blushing, you sweet thing? Aww... my lethal soldier is an adorable killer *cupcake*..._

_I stifle a giggle._

_But I’m not laughing when our fingers touch, and there’s practically a *spark*._

_*Jesus*! It’s only been a few days... what is happening??_

_Oh and also - I *don’t do this!!* Whatever *this* is..._

_It’s good that you’re leaving for your drug deal soon... I could use some time to reflect. Or not think about it. Whatever._

_Fuck._

_I blow smoke at you, and stub the cigarette into the crystal wine glass that fell over on the table but didn’t break._

_I sit up. “You’d better clean this up before you go,” I say archly, and hop over the broken crockery before heading upstairs._

I grin. Yes Sir. Of course I'll clean up your mess Sir. Wouldn't think of leaving it for you Sir.

I wonder how you keep your apartment clean. You must have a cleaner - I can't imagine you touching a hoover.

I search likely doors until I find the broom cupboard, take a dustpan and brush and get the shards of crockery, containers, and sticky remnants of food all in a bag. One plate and a glass survived the onslaught and I stick them in the dishwasher, then clean the floor of sweet and sour sauce. There. Immaculate.

My clothes have food on them so I put them in the laundry basket, have a quick shower, and get dressed in combats and a t-shirt, then head for Hyde Park Corner. Quentin is waiting near Wellington's statue. We walk and chat a bit, and with three capsules of speed I make my way back home.

Home?

How - I've been here what, two days? How do I think of it as home?

Well, what else do I call it? Base of operations? Jim's place (that I have moved into)?

I open the door with the key you gave me and go in search of you.

_It’s strange - I’m immersed in the Empire but when I hear the click of the door closing, I feel a twinge of - what? *Loss*?_

_Jesus Christ, Jimmy - you’re not getting *attached* to your pet, are you?_

_I glower at my screen, and force myself to keep going._

_Muttering to myself, I check the threads of my web for security, tensile strength, attractiveness to sweet little insects, etc._

_By the time you return, I’ve got a significant amount done in a short time. When I see you appear on the security camera, I stare at you for a moment, then rise from my desk chair. I grab my laptop, leave my office and ensconce myself on the sofa before the door swishes open._

_I sense your appearance in the living room, even though you move silently like a ninja. A smile plays on my lips._

_“Got your illicit drugs? How’s Quinn?” I ask in a silky voice._

"Quintus is fine, thank you. As is the weather. If you do go walkabout tonight, at least it will be pleasant," I grin as I walk in.

"Glass of wine?" I ask as I head to the kitchen.

_“*You’re* in good spirits... I’ll have a sassy Riesling,” I say, staring after you as you wander into the kitchen. Seeing you so at home here gives me a strange feeling of pleasure. Huh..._

_“Was it engaging in illegal activity that put a spring in your step, darling?” I call after you. “Surely not the tawdry sex acts in random places around the flat?”_

"Nothing like a good tawdry sex act to enliven me," I call back as I get your wine out of the fridge and pour you a glass, grab a beer for myself.

I head back to the living room, hand you the glass. "I got three capsules - one should keep me awake most of the night; I'll take a second one halfway through to be sure, or if I start feeling as tired as I did last night. Cheers." I raise my beer.

_I laugh shortly, and raise my glass. "To your drug-fuelled adventure..."_

_I put the glass to my lips, and study you as I sip. God - knowing you just came back from a drug deal is giving you a rough edge that's making me feel all warm and smoky inside... I rarely engage in the taking of substances, it smacks of weakness to me. But you're doing this for me - to be my soldier on high alert. If I hadn't just fucked you - twice - I'm quite certain I'd be tearing off your clothes before you put down your beer. What *is* it about you?? Why am I acting this way? Like an obsessed, hormone-addled *adolescent*..._

_Ridiculous..._

_"How long has it been since you've taken speed? Are these capsules the amount and strength you've taken before? Have you had any adverse effects in the past? Does Quigley deal with high-quality goods? I'll need his information before you take it. If this goes wrong in any way, I'll be tracking the gentleman down..." I say sharply, my hand tightening on the stem of the glass._

Good grief. You're awfully fussy about substances for a crime lord. Are you one of those 'never get high of your own supply' ones? But you suggested a cokefest tomorrow... which I'm quite looking forward to. Just speed then?

I sit back. "Last time I took speed - three months ago or something? And yes, I've taken capsules before, including Quentin's, and they're usually good for going a full night. I've never had any adverse effects, Quentin is very reliable and only deals in high-quality stuff - really, you should get him into your network if you're into the drug trade. He's quite expensive, but you know what you get. I'll get you his phone number and address..." I grab a notepad and pen and write them down.

"What have you got against speed?"

_“I don’t generally like playing around with anything that could affect my brain adversely. It would be like getting sand into a finely tuned instrument...” I shake my head with distaste. “As a rule I don’t care for drugs - they make people act foolishly and erratically. When you get down to it, people are just stupid, easily spooked children - add drugs to the sticky batter in their heads, and it’s just a recipe for mayhem. And *not* the fun kind... I like chaos well enough, when it’s controlled by me. But I’m most certainly not in the drug trade... When you see how messy and unseemly these organizations are, even at the top...” I roll my eyes and sip my wine. “*So* tedious... Why bother? But naturally I represent the *interests* of people in the drug trade - money laundering, guns, efficient importing and exporting, getting customs and law enforcement to consistently turn a blind eye... my web goes wherever there’s money and power and corruption to be had. But I hardly want to dive into the sandbox with the egotistical little drug kings, do I... especially when I can have *such fun* pitting them against each other and watching the Shakespearean machinations and bloodbaths ensue... before diverting the trade to whichever client *I* choose...”_

_I smile at you fiercely. “If your drug friend is as good as you say, yes, I’m sure I can put this information to good use...”_

_I watch you as you quietly drink your beer, digesting everything I’ve said. “And if you’re wondering why I don’t draw the line at coke, *well*. Since I’m not an *idiot* about it, I can use it infrequently. The first time is the most intense, and each time after that, less so - so what’s the point in continuing to use something that’s less pleasurable and more problematic?” I sniff. “*Drug addicts*... not the sharpest crayons in the box, are they?”_

_Like a certain detective I know who goes off the rails on occasion like an unsupervised child with Christmas sweets. I shake my head. Case in point. A clever little crayon so often on the verge of snapping in two... normally I would like to encourage this, but... my mind seems to have found another far more pleasurable diversion..._

_How very *unlike* me- but there’s an intrigue in that, I think to myself with a delicious hint of a shiver. (Begone, silly detective...)_

_“But you and I, Sebbie... we’ll indulge in a sweet treat tomorrow... and see where the evening takes us...” I bat my eyelashes at you and drink my wine._

I nearly roll my eyes at your first comments, but they're more than made up for by the promise of a sweet treat tomorrow and you looking at me seductively.

Where was I... oh yeah.

"If you don't play with stuff that affects your brain, why are you drinking that wine?" I point at the glass. "According to Professor Nutt, alcohol is worse for the brain than amphetamines. And I know what you're going to say - you know exactly where your limits are, and you don't drink enough to addle your brain. Well, same here. I'm not a bloody drug addict, and you know that, or you would not have hired me. So what's the difference between someone who has a beer occasionally and the person who has speed occasionally? I will tell you - beer always has an adverse effect on your concentration and skills, whereas speed, when used carefully, can enable you to perform where you might have fucked up otherwise. If you are in a situation where you've been going for 72 hours but it's absolutely essential that you stay awake for another 24 - it's a damn good tool. If you're not an _idiot_ about it. Fuck it, caffeine is a drug - a stimulant drug, like speed - and you seem to be guzzling enough of that. It's just a question of scale."

I have no idea why, after all the things you've said and done, it's your dismissal of drugs as the stuff of losers that gets my hackles up. You really know how to choose your battles, Moran...

_“Well *done*, darling!” I crow. “Were you part of the Oxford Union? I can picture it now... young, angry Sebastian pouring his killing instincts into his argument... before tearing his opponents to bloody shreds.”_

_I sulk at you theatrically. “But now you’ve gone and poked holes in my proposition, Sebbie! Whatever shall I do? I’ll never be able to ingest nasty substances like alcohol and caffeine again!” I take a long sip from my wine glass, staring at you._

_“Now I *could* answer your challenges...”_

_I lean in towards you, feeling my eyes glitter._

_“But the rules of Oxford-style debating have no jurisdiction here. So instead I’ll just take a stroll down memory lane long enough to recall that my father the abusive halfwit gobshite, was *happily* involved in drug trade... and my baby brother spent several years completely fucked out of his head on various charming substances before taking his own life - speed being one of them. Oh! Did I just divert the debate into an irrelevant sob story? *Terribly* sorry, my dear... I think I can guarantee that it won’t happen again,” I say sharply._

_Shit._

_ShitShit*Shit*._

_*Why the fuck did I say all that??*_

_We stare at each other intently. High tension has snaked through the room like a crack splitting the surface of a frozen lake... and we’re standing on ice, watching the crack move jaggedly towards us. I feel a tremor in my muscles, and focus on keeping my hands steady as I lift the wine glass to my lips. My eyes close as I pour the rest of the wine down my throat. It burns all the way down. My heart is racing, like a horse trying to jump out of my rib cage. When I open my eyes again, your face is inscrutable._

_Steady as you please, I lay my hand against your cheek. “Use your substances as you will for your work. But know that I will not tolerate what *I* declare reckless drug use in my living space. Or in the one I *own*.”_

_I trail my fingers lightly from your eye and down your cheek. Only afterwards do I realize I was imagining a trail of tears._

_“Understood, Moran?” I murmur, staring at you in fascination. You belong to *me* now, honey. And you will *not* be taken away from him who owns you..."_

I get irked at you bringing up Oxford -

but then -

but then.

Are you -

are you _opening up_ to me??

Your father - abusive - no surprise there but -

your little brother -

oh god -

oh shit Sebastian you bigmouth idiot -

You finish your wine, your face unreadable. I'm unsure what to say. _I'm sorry to hear that_ \- yeah, no.

The one you own.

Understood, Moran.

Yes.

"Understood, Sir."

I swallow, but don't look away.

I lick my lips.


	11. A Man Blessed by Becoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hail Thoth, architect of truth, give me words of power that I may intuit the symbols of dream and command my own becoming. I stand before the masters who witnessed the working of magic, who were with Isis the evening she became the swallow and her lamentations filled the air, who were with her as she shook down her black hair and veiled the god's transformation in secret, who witnessed the conception of the divine child though his coming was yet unrevealed. And they are Isis, who worked the charm, and Hathor, who interpreted the stars. And they are goddesses of beauty and of wonder and of revelation. I too, am a man who dreams. I, too, believe in miracles and I work my spells well to achieve them. I wait to come forth by day in Sept, city of shredding the veil.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, Chapter XVIII. Translation Normandi Ellis.

_I lick my lips._

_God, what is it about you..._

_Your effect on me is so intoxicating..._

_Given that we’ve already fucked twice today, and night is quickly approaching... I’ll simply relish the effect you have on me. You’ve confirmed you belong to me, shown your obedience to me, and I believe I can rely on your judgement, as you say._

_“That’s a good Tiger...” I say breathily._

_But I still have to worry about every little thing in the world that can take you away from me?_

_I scowl. “And you’re not to get hurt, either. Critically, anyway. I won’t have it...”_

_I push my wine glass away, then cross my arms and lean back in my chair._

_“Bedtime approaches...” I sigh._

Huh?

Not get hurt?

... this whole disapproval of drugs -

it's not just because you dislike them -

you are _actually_ afraid I'll get _hurt_!?

Like your little brother - oh Jim -

\- shut up, Moran, the last thing he wants is your _pity_...

But - you worry about me?

I'm unprecedentedly touched. I never - you -

_Bedtime approaches._

Right. Yes. Focus on the mission at hand, soldier. Stop making gooey eyes at the nice hot Boss.

_He worries about me!_

Yes, that's very sensible of him. He's likely to kill you, after all.

Now. Mission.

"What time do you usually go to sleep? Is it the same time every night?"

_You’re looking at me in a very unusual manner... not a look I’ve *ever* seen before, and I don’t care to think about what it means._

_After telling you about my past... not the worst of it, but what the fuck was I thinking??_

_But then you ask about the plan for tonight, and I feel myself relaxing._

_“It’s always just before midnight when I fall asleep...” I say. Was that when I met the man on the roof? Sounds about right.. how very strange..._

_“Doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing,” I continue. “Eventually I realized I needed to be at home, so I didn’t end up falling down a flight of stairs or something... although - now that I think of it, I’ve never got hurt in all these years...”_

I nod. Of course. Midnight. It wouldn't be a less dramatic hour for you.

"Right... well, best head off to bed soon, then. Seeing as I won't need to worry about disturbing you - we could leave the light on, and I could stand and walk around. Less likely to fall asleep then. I'm sorry - I shouldn't fall asleep _at all_ , but there's clearly something weird going on, and I don't want a repeat of last night. Does that work for you? Or I could switch the light on after you've fallen asleep."

_I stare at you, thinking. “Fine. I’ll fall asleep with the lights on, maybe you’ll be more likely to stay awake - or to see what happens before you fall asleep,” I say drily. “Just don’t be *annoying* - it won’t stop me from sleeping, but it will vex me greatly...”_

_I get up, looking pointedly at my glass and the bottles on the table. Then I saunter towards the stairs._

No Sir. Won't be annoying, Sir.

You're walking off so it's safe to roll my eyes.

I clean away the bottles and glass, follow you upstairs, where you have changed into silk pyjamas again - good god they're an affront to public decency - it's a good thing you change before you go out. You raise an eyebrow at me, then slide between the sheets.

_Mmm. I like how you look at me, Tiger..._

_and I look forward to seeing what other noises I can coax from you tomorrow._

_But for now... there’s this bizarre situation we find ourselves in._

_And I won’t admit this to you, but it feels far less disturbing with you here..._

_Comforting, even - which is silly, but whatever. It’s stupidly adorable._

_“Well, Sebastian. See you on the other side...” I say drily._

_My heart begins to race..._

You close your eyes and lie still. I look at you for a bit, then take a capsule out of my pocket and swallow it. I pray to god it works...

I have the Kindle still, so I can read. I won't sit down though - I stand, occasionally walk the length of the room and back. I feel fine - awake and alert. Hoping that yesterday was a fluke.

You look asleep. Your face doesn't look very relaxed, though; tension still visible. If you sleepwalk every night - do you ever properly rest?

Hope I'll at least get to see what you're up to tonight...

Five pages. Five paces across the room. Five pages. Five paces.

Five pages. Five paces.

I'm next to the bed. It looks so soft and attractive -

 _No_ , soldier. Don't you even _think_ about it.

Five pages. Five paces.

I am tired - how can I be tired? Down, do some push-ups. Get the blood pumping.

It's rushing through my ears. I should be awake, alert.

How can this _happen_?? What the fuck is this contagious somnambulism?

I reach for my pocket, for the second capsule. I just have to get through this.

I'm asleep before I hit the ground.

_My eyes open and I push aside the bedcovers._

_When I stand, I see a man on the floor. Ah yes - *him*._

_The violent gentleman who courted me for so long in his life..._

_Well, now he seems to have found a way to be around me, both awake and asleep._

_I pause, sensing drugs in his system. I scan my memories from the past day._

_Oh yes - a plan to stay awake._

_And - *hypnotherapy*. My, my..._

_A smile ghosts across my lips. Both so desperate to know... But I like things to remain simple. Covert._

_I cross the room to the cupboard, and get dressed, down to black jacket and leather gloves._

_On the way to the door, I bend down and study his features - such a beautiful man._

_*What it would be like to touch him...?* I find myself thinking, much to my surprise._

_My gloved fingers sweep over his cheek, and then I pause. How very strange... I can’t remember when was the last time I did such a thing - out of curiosity._

_No... *intrigue*._

_His eyes open - blue like ocean under a bright sky..._

_“Wakey wakey,” I croon, then stand upright. I head towards the bedroom door, slowing down to look back at you._

Where am I? Why am I on the floor?

Oh - wow. When I open my eyes, I’m faced with quite a vision. Your eyes deep black, like your suit, a half-smile on your lips.

I get up, follow you out the door.

“Only two for you tonight, and then we’re to meet my brother... I’d say he must have had a great laugh today, if I thought he had a sense of humour. Unfortunately he’s frightfully dour... unlike the one who left. But let’s not mention him.”

You turn into a side road.

“I’m off this way, see you at our little date with my brother... can’t believe I already have you meeting the family,” you giggle, and you’re gone.

I walk through town. It looks different than during the day - the buildings are less solid, the lives inside them shining out in different colours and flavours. Some bright, some dim, some bitter, some sweet.

As I get to the tracks I see the man, trembling, standing on the side. The ground moves with the force of the oncoming train. I hold his hand as he steps onto the rails.

I have two hours for the next one, but he’s calling out so desperately, I go to his apartment. He cries with relief when he sees me. I hold his head, stroking his hair, as he sobs, tells me his story. A story dark and cutting with abuse and loneliness. I don’t speak, I don’t tell him it’s alright, I’m here for him. He knows.

He has a gun. The dog next door starts barking furiously when he shoots.

_I wander the streets, observing. Life is a living tapestry, full of fascinating sights and sounds and smells. And each night I step into it, take a stroll, and breathe it in. Occasionally I spot an associate of mine. Sometimes I’ll watch them as they work._

_Tonight there is no work for me - the associates have it covered. But there is plenty to see, and anyway - knowing my meeting with my brother is approaching, it gives me time to prepare._

_When the time approaches, I head to the predetermined spot, humming._

_I see you approach me on the docks. You stand next to me, saying nothing. There is only the sound of the waves against the shore._

_“There was water the first night we spoke,” I muse. You look at me in surprise._

_“I remember... everything,” I say, and smile._

First night? Has there been a first night? Does that imply there will be a last night?

I am struggling with time - but I do know the concept of ending intimately, and I don't want that.

I look at you, and you seem to understand, smile, raise your hand, stroke my face. I remember that - I think -

"How adorable. I'm glad you're enjoying him. Was it worth it?"

I startle, look up to see a tall pale figure with black eyes - oh, it runs in the family? But there's a star in the middle of them, which gives me a funny feeling in my stomach when he looks straight at me.

_“Morphy!” I call out gleefully. “It’s been *so* long, I can’t *stand* it...”_

_“If that were so, surely you would have reached out?” Morpheus asks wryly, arching an eyebrow._

_“Don’t be ridiculous, baby brother...” I coo. “I’m far more likely to suffer in silence,” I say with a pout._

_“I’m here to pass on a message. Our brother will consider returning to the fold, *if* you give this one back...”_

_“*Back*?” I roar. “Sebastian was *never* his, and he’s *my* associate now... and if our dear brother thinks he can take me on...” I giggle, then place a hand on Morpheus’s shoulder. I feel the slightest shiver underneath my leather glove. “I needed that,” I grin. “Now. Say hello to Sebbie...”_

_“Hallo, Sebbie,” he says drily, turning his glowing eyes towards you._

I try to look him in the eyes, but worlds whirl in whorls inside them, and I have to look away.

"Hello, Morphy," I reply, making you giggle - what?

He frowns. "I warned you this might happen if you meld with a person... their personality influences you, if you want to or not. You start doing... irrational things."

You scowl at him. "Careful, younger brother... Desire affects us all. Surely I don't need to remind you..."

Your voice sounds like a dangerous low purr.

Your brother glowers at you. "He was spoken for..."

_I shrug. “Our brother thinks himself *so mighty*, the big oaf. Well, here’s my message to him: I’m infinitely scarier than you. My power *can not* weaken. And I’m So. Much. Prettier. Who do *you* think Sebbie wants to be with?” I scowl at Morpheus. “Will you remember that, darling? Or do you need to write it down?”_

Wait wait wait. If _I_ am - Sebbie - Sebastian -

Who was never - his - what?

_give back??_

Who does Sebbie want to be with?

"What's going on?"

_Ah, poor clueless lamb. I stroke your arm and smile._

_“Just a spat between titans, darling... nothing to be troubled about, you’re perfectly safe with me...” I coo._

_“You’ve thrown the balance off on a whim,” Morpheus chides mildly. “Take care not to fall prey to your own hubris...”_

_For my dour little brother this is like throwing a hissy fit. But I am no one to chide..._

_“Take care not to overstep, dream boy,” I say in a sing-song voice, and press against you. “And who said it’s a whim? How do you know it’s not true love, hmmm?”_

_Morpheus scoffs. “Were you capable of such a thing...”_

_I sigh and lay my head against your shoulder. “This has been a slice, but I’m remembering why we so rarely visit. Is there anything else, Morphy darling...? Or was it all guilt trips and judgment on the agenda... how positively human of you!” I say sweetly._

_True love!?!_

What??

How - who -

I'm not - you're - I don't know who I am or who you are but there are - others of us - and they don't - love is not what we - we do the other side.

"This doesn't affect you alone, brother," Morphy says. "The others are concerned too. You can't break the rules... not even you."

_“Oh, I can just imagine you all nattering away like old women,” I say with a pout. “Who does he think he is, breaking the *rules*? The nerve! Oh *doom*, oh *gloom.*... oh *gods* could you be any more *boring*?” I shout, letting my head drop back dramatically. “Isn’t it time you’re getting back to your little dreams, honey? Come, Sebbie... pay no mind to the star-eyed drama queen. Let’s continue our promenade...” I slip my arm over yours, and smile at you lasciviously._

The night sky rumbles, the stars growl; I feel it reverberate to the core of my bones, I nearly pull loose from you, needing to fold double, cover my ears -

\- and then it's gone, and we're alone.

"Can you tell me?" I ask, simply.

_I stare at you for a moment._

_“Such a beautiful night! Let’s walk,” I say blithely._

_After a moment of strolling away from the dock and the sound of waves, we wander through an industrial area - known for its high crime rate, but we hardly have a thing to lose, do we?_

_“My siblings are like any family, really...” I say airily. “Some of them like to stick their noses in others' affairs. But let’s not get bogged down by this silly story... the devil’s in the details, but I can tell you want to get to the climax...” I giggle and squeeze your arm._

_“One of my brethren had their sights on you - we tend to be magnetized by those who exemplify our own proclivities. I suppose it was inevitable that he would notice you...” My eyes narrow._

_“But there were many others for him to choose from! How often do *I* see someone who intrigues me, in all my existence?” I say peevishly._

_You gaze at me with your blue eyes. “I was so very impressed with your work, darling!” I murmur. “And for our paths to keep crossing like that... it doesn’t happen. It felt almost like a courtship,” I purr. “Ridiculous thought, courting Death... *Wooing* Death, with all those bodies strewn across the world, like rose petals. When I saw you at the canal that night...” I place my hand against your cheek._

_“I remembered you. And somewhere inside I must have known my brother was on his way. But in that moment I couldn’t let him have you. It wasn’t planned - I just knew my beautiful admirer was *not* going to go off with anyone else. So I gave you my kiss...”_

_We’ve stopped walking. We’re standing in front of a warehouse, staring at each other intently._

_“So you see it was the only way... once you were made my associate, you were mine.” I can feel my eyes gleaming as my hand moves down your chest, and stops at your heart. “Do you feel it, Sebastian?” I whisper. “Do you like being mine?”_

Your hand glows. Not heat, but darkness, soft and velvety like a dirge on a moonless night. It shines its blessing through my skin into my mind, bringing peace and - something else -

The hand lowers, moving its lambency down, across my jaw, my neck, my clavicle, my chest, coming to rest on my heart.

I become aware of the beat. Slow, steady, sonorous; vibrating through my chest, the pulse meeting the glow from your hand, merging in an oscillation of essence, defining what I am, what I have always become.

"I love you."

_I find myself blinking (how wonderful to *react* to something, I think with delight)... then I gaze at you and smile._

_Such a human sentiment, but... you are still so close to this mortal realm, my big brave soldier..._

_And your courting of me did make an impression, in the end._

_I lean in and tilt my head, taking in all the details - the crinkled skin around your eyes... the frown lines... the scars on your face, and peeping out of your collar and sleeves..._

_“You always did,” I say softly and trace the shape of your face with my gloved hand. “Whatever shall I do with you, Sebastian?”_

I always did. Yes.

I lift my hands, take your hand from off my heart, start to pull on the leather fingers to loosen them, to pull the glove off to reveal your hand, but you pull it back, shake your head, pull the glove tight again.

I reach for the gloved hand, raise it to my face, kiss the palm, then look up at you.

"Whatever you want."

_“But of course...” I murmur._

_Huh. This is... surprising. Since when am I *surprised*?_

_But then... why *shouldn’t* you love me? I am an obsidian blade poised over the heart of a human sacrifice... I am the blood-soaked jaws of the panther tearing through its prey... I am the onyx majesty of the Underworld... the crown jewel of the Dark Mother Herself._

_Nice to finally be appreciated, I think and a smile spreads slowly across my face._

_“Come, Sebbie...” I murmur, and begin to walk again._

_I turn my head lightly to look at you, and you give me a hesitant smile._

_Mmm, I think and slide my arm around your waist - surprising myself for the second time that night and in nearly forever._

Your body close to mine feels strange... the black radiance permeating me more and more, feeling only partially here, partially me, partially... what else?

I've fulfilled my purpose for tonight, now all I am is yours, and I wander the city streets with you, feeling the colours of the people in their homes, out on the streets. Some look at us, then look away. One glows red when he sees us, yells something, starts walking towards us fast, but you look at him, and he makes a sharp turn and walks full speed into a wall, falls over, grabs his head. We walk past.

_What a beautiful night walking with you, seeing life unfold around us, a vivid tapestry of sights and sounds... the stars gleam at us, their burning flames turned cold and radiant by unfathomable distances. For a moment, I think of my brother’s eyes, and I glare at the stretch of arrogant, glittering black sky over our heads._

_You look at me questioningly, and my bad mood fades as quickly as it arose._

_I lead us back to the penthouse, and to the bedroom. I undress in front of you, slip into the black pyjamas I had shed earlier this night. You watch me hungrily, and I crawl into bed like a predatory cat._

_Then I snap my fingers and point next to me._

You are so beautiful... now even more than during the day, when I only see your outside. The dark radiance seeping through your white skin causes an intoxicating effect...

you cover yourself up with shiny pyjamas which yet change the shimmering. I'm staring at you, fascinated, when you get between the sheets and snap your fingers.

An order.

A very welcome order.

I get out of my clothes, slide into the bed, move towards you, but you stop me.

_“You don’t remember what happened when I kissed you, do you... don’t touch my skin, if you want to see another day...” I croon._

_You stare at me with such longing and confusion._

_“Think of me as a poison garden, honey... beautiful to look at, but not to touch or taste...”_

_I gesture at you to lie down. “But if you’re very good... I can give you a little something...”_

_You stretch out with wide eyes. I move towards you slowly. I straddle your hips, and press my pelvis against yours. You harden with a groan._

_“My... that was quick...” I whisper, leaning over you and placing my hands on either side of your head._

Oh god - so beautiful - so enchanting -

I raise my hands, touch the silk covering you, slide over the smooth fabric, feeling your perfect body underneath, so tempting... but you are right; I can see it when I look into your eyes, you're a gleaming viper poised to strike, a lionfish gliding through the water, a wolfsbane catching the sunlight, deadly beauty...

But vipers and lionfish and wolfsbane don't generally sit on my cock, making me hard for them...

_I tilt my pelvis, and press against your cock. The intake of your breath is like sweet wine... the darkening of your eyes, so mesmerizing..._

_“Oh, do you *like* danger, Sebastian?” I ask innocently. I dip my head down and blow gently along the skin of your neck and up towards your cheek and earlobe. I see your hair ruffle gently, and goosebumps rise on your skin._

_Yes_... fuck, yes...

You are so alluring, so tantalizing, and I can't - I know I can't touch, but that only makes you more attractive. I groan, blow back, see your hair dancing, your face taking on a look of surprise and amusement.

_*Ohh*... how delightful..._

_There have been so few over the millennia I could touch - and none have shown such desire, such *longing* for me..._

_“Oh, my sweet thing...” I murmur. “You certainly know how to make a boy feel special...”_

_I’ve never been so *flirtatious* before... Morpheus is right, this form has influenced me..._

_But not just my form - there’s something about the way we’re responding to *each other*..._

_I gaze at you, fascinated. Well? What shall I do with you, then..._

_I move back from you, but remain sitting on your legs. You look bereft and then defiant - I can practically feel you reaching for me, to hell with the consequences._

_“Uh uh uh,” I warn. “That would be a brief affair, indeed... Kiss kiss, you’re dead. But let’s see what we can do with those hands, hmmm? Touch yourself... and imagine it’s my hands that are touching you...” I raise my hand over your cheek, and stroke the air over your cheek, and down over your lips._

It's like dangling a juicy steak in front of a tiger and telling him it's poisonous...

but then you give me another option... which is less good, but probably less lethal...

My hand moves down to my cock, stroking the soft black silk of your leg on its way, feeling the stretched muscles underneath. I grasp my erection, shudder, start moving my hand, intensely aware of your black eyes looking at me.

_“Thaaat’s it... for me... as me...” I croon, peeling down my pyjama bottoms. I grasp my own cock, and stroke firmly._

_Mmm... your eyes are like the sea during a storm..._

Oh god your cock so delectable - I so long to touch it, with my hands, my mouth, worship you, pleasure you...

I groan in desire, licking my lips as I move my hand faster, reach out with my other, touch your silk-covered knee, just your knee...

_I look down at your hand on my knee, touching me like some forbidden treasure._

_Aww. So sweet._

_“You really do hunger for danger, don’t you... well, I’m the most dangerous thing on this green earth, honey...” I smile at you lasciviously._

_I raise my silk trousers just high enough so you can drag your hand along my thigh. You squeeze my thigh, and groan._

_“That’s right, darling... flirt with Death, the way you like to...” I whisper, stroking myself faster. “Tell me what you wish you could do to me...”_

"Oh god -" I moan. "If I could touch you... I'd touch you all over those silk pyjamas, feeling your skin and your muscles underneath; until I couldn't resist pulling them off any more, bare you, lay you on your back and taste you all over, your neck, your nipples, your abdomen, your legs - until I'd get to that beautiful cock. I would lick it from your balls all the way to the tip, then lightly lick all around the head... get the first taste of you... wet my lips, gently take you in my mouth, tease you with my lips and tongue until you grabbed my hair and pushed me down on it..." I groan at the thought.

"Then I'd let you guide me, dictate the rhythm, taking you deep, until you'd buckle underneath me as you come so hard into my mouth..."

_Hearing you speak, it takes every bit of discipline I have not to seize you and crush you against my lips. The only reason I don’t is because it would be so short-lived. This influence of my form appears to be growing stronger... and I don’t know why._

_I stare down at you as we pleasure ourselves, gazing into each other’s eyes._

_There it is again - that desire to touch you, merge with you... so urgent..._

_Such... *longing*?_

_Oh for heaven’s sake... I know what’s happening. My form is developing *feelings* for you._

_I continued to stare at you, stunned. Oh this could not be more ridiculous... *really*??_

_But I’ll admit I’ve always been a bit curious what it’s like to *feel* something for another._

_And looking at you, you clearly are feeling much the same, if not *more*._

_A smile spreads slowly across my face. Oh you adorable little creatures. Tomorrow will be very, very interesting._

_“Mmm... so delicious, darling,” I say breathlessly. “You have *no idea* how close you wandered to the edge. Now I’m going to come, and so should you...”_

_I watch as you stroke yourself, groaning._

_I feel myself shivering as I stroke my cock harder... faster..._

_A low moan escapes my lips..._

I briefly wonder if it's dangerous being touched by your semen, decide I don't care, focus on your face, your dark eyes closing, your tongue licking your lips, your mouth opening, panting slightly, the look on your face rapturous, like you're swept away by your own sensuality; and why wouldn't you; you're sex incarnate, reaching your little death, pushing me over my own edge; and your face goes blurry as my eyes are squeezed shut and my hips shudder as pleasure becomes too great to contain and pushes its way out.

_After wave after wave of shuddering pleasure begins to recede, I catch the tail end of your orgasm and it’s a thing to behold - you are so beautifully *primal*, with your low guttural groaning... your body spasming with ecstasy..._

_Mmm... I could watch this over and over..._

_I feel a twinge of something unfamiliar, and my brow furrows. Strange - must be those feelings from my form infiltrating my thoughts. Because I can’t - *touch* you??_

_Very strange..._

_“Now then... you’ll need to return to the chair, I’m afraid - can’t have you attempting to spoon me as you sleep, and expiring. What fun would that be?” I pout._

_You nod but look dejected as you get up naked out of bed, and trudge to the chair._

_Aw - you sweet *darling*._

_I watch as you settle into the chair, leaning back and crossing your long muscular legs._

_“Sebastian,” I say, and you look at me questioningly. “Give a message to me in the morning. Say ‘We had an agreement, Jimmy - what happens in the night is for my eyes only. No more spyyying,” I sing, wagging my finger at you._

_Your eyebrows shoot up. “And this will mean something to him - you?”_

_I smile at you slyly. “Ohh who knows. But eternity is far too long without a little fun...” I giggle, and hunker down in the bedcovers. I switch off the light on the bedside table, and hear you breathing across the room. It feels strangely far away..._

I wake up in a long corridor. A hotel.

Oh fuck. I don't want to be here.

I'm walking to the room where Donner is. Donner and - the kid.

Not again - I don't want to do this again?

(Don't you, Sebastian?)

No - please -

(You don't have to.)

No?

Oh - there's a corridor leading away to the right. Maybe if I go there -

(Hello, Sebastian.)

There’s a bird in the corridor. A big black bird. A raven. How did he get in?

The bird nudges his head to the side, where I see there's a beautiful night garden instead of a wall. Oh.

He flaps off, sets himself on a branch, looks around at me. (You coming?)

Yeah - yeah, of course -

I step onto the grass, silvery and grey in the moonlight, walk into the garden.

(Right. You gotta stay here for a bit, alright? I'll be back - or someone else will come to you. For now, just make yourself at home.)

The raven flies away.

Alright. The garden is pleasant, smelling of jasmine and honeysuckle, the temperature is nice, and the moon is gibbous. I've been in worse places.

_I become aware of lying in bed, the weight of the covers on my body. I open my eyes and breathe in deeply. I glance at the clock - 9:00 - then look over at you - you’re leaning back in the chair, slightly slumped over. And naked._

_What the fuck...?_

_Did we- ? While sleepwalking??_

_I sigh heavily. Of *course* we did... we can barely keep it in our pants when we’re in control of ourselves. I think back to yesterday - the restraints on the staircase... the crockery being flung from the dining room table..._

_A smile plays on my lips._

_Well. It doesn’t rightly matter if it’s your fault or not - you failed at your mission, and there will be consequences..._

_“Wakey wakey, Sebastian,” I call out sharply. “Time to face the music...”_

_I sit up yawning. You continue to doze, and my eyes narrow._

_“Sebastian!” I snap, and throw back the covers. As I approach you, my glare slowly melts away, and I look at you, perplexed._


	12. Come to this Dark World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The laurel tree sends forth no shoots, the oasis shrinks to sand, the fig tree gives up no fruit. Men hammer the hard heart of the mountain, but the mountain refuses them gold. They grow weary and turn wicked. Yet I have done what must be done. I led seven goats to the temple. I offered cake to the gods. When I spoke, butterflies burst from the crevices of my lips.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Nebseni, Chapter XVIII. Translation Normandi Ellis.

I amble through the garden, looking at the flowers, colourful despite being different shades of grey; the stars, the moon. I see movement in a small stone arbour at the end of the lawn and make my way over. When I get near, I think I hear soft sniffling

"Excuse me?" I ask. "Is anyone in there?"

Sounds of quick movements, a voice speaks - female - "It's only me -"

I put my head around the corner, see a lady in an elaborate gown, her eyes shining from crying. "Do excuse me. I didn't know there was anyone nearby," she apologizes. She is pretty, pale, with eyes that look large, sad, and tired.

"Forgive me, lady," I say as I walk in, "I couldn't help but overhear you crying..."

"I am so sorry," she says, wringing her hands. "I didn't mean to be so loud. The garden is usually quiet this time of night."

"I've only just arrived," I reply.

She chuckles, but without joy. "I've been here a long time..." Her eyes stare into the distance, a tear leaking out of the left one again. I reach into my pocket for my handkerchief. It's clean.

I hold it out to her. She looks at it, hesitantly, then accepts it, wipes the tear away.

"I'm sorry, stranger..."

"No need to apologize because I intruded in your private grief. I can leave if you'd rather...?"

"No, Sir, no; I do apologize - where are my manners -" she is doing her best to compose herself.

"Please, my lady. This is your garden - I am but an intruder..."

I look at her, uncertain of what to say. "Would you - like to... talk about it?"

She looks at me, assessingly.

"Do you know why you are here?" she asks.

I shake my head.

"Well, I do. Know why I am here. And I can never leave..." A tear forms again and is dabbed at. "I came of my own volition, but I was given false promises... and now it's too late to go back.

Were you sent here by desire?"

I shake my head, again. "No - I was walking - I was trying to escape from an unpleasant place, ended up in this garden. There was a bird."

_You’re not waking up and you’re not moving... What’s going on??_

_“Sebastian?” I say in a small voice. Hesitantly I approach, and gently shake you. Your skin is cold._

_“Fuck! What-??” I stare at you in horror. Relief floods me when I see you breathing. But - why are you unconscious??_

_I grab you by the arm, and hoist you up. You’re big, a lot bigger than me - and you’re completely unconscious and not helping. But I’m far stronger than I look and I’m fucking determined. I hold you against me and drag you to the bed, then let you fall to the mattress._

_I crawl over to you and touch your face. “Sebbie...” I whisper. “What’s wrong??”_

She nods. "Ah yes, the raven. He's nice - tries to be kind. But - he's a bird. And there are the others - but they're all his creatures. I get so lonely..."

"Whose creatures?"

"My Lord's," she says, and tears start flowing again.

"Who is this Lord? What has he done to you?"

"Nothing..." she says, her voice tight with sadness. "He doesn't do anything... just ignores me..."

"Is he the one who gave you the... false promises?"

She nods. "He was in need. He promised me love eternal..."

"Typical. Men, eh?" I shake my head in commiseration, pull my mouth into a half-smile, and she makes a brave effort to smile herself.

"Surely a lady as pretty as yourself should have no problem finding someone else though?" I say encouragingly. "If he betrayed you he's certainly not worth crying in an arbour over. Get out there, snap yourself up someone better, forget about him. He's an arse."

She gasps, looks around, leans closer. "Don't say such things. We are in his realm -

and that's also why I can't - find someone else. All here are his subjects."

"Can't you leave?"

She shakes her head. "It's too late... I can never go back."

"Go somewhere else then?" I hate it when people insist that they are doomed.

"Where would I go? I have nowhere..."

"That's great, means you can go anywhere."

"I can't though. I love him... I was made for him."

Well that's a bit fatalistic. "He's a twat. Are you going to spend the rest of your life crying over him?"

I hear a throat being cleared, like gravel rolling down a grave mound.

_I have the phone in my hand and I’m just about to call for an ambulance, when a thought breaks through the panic in my mind like a spear. Is this one of the features of our particular somnambulism? Maybe this is what I’m like too before I wake up...?_

_I check your vitals. All fine._

_I stare at you, my heart rate slowing slightly. Should I call my doctor over here to examine you... just to be sure?_

_No... I think not. Doctors have been rather useless about this issue._

_I exhale slowly. All I can do is wait..._

_My hand moves to your face, and I stroke it gently._

I turn my head and see a tall pale figure standing outside the arbour. I nod my head.

"Good to see you again, Morphy."

He scowls. "It's not my name... just my brother being _funny_. You may call me my Lord."

May I now. I'm delighted.

"Lord of what, may I ask?"

"Lord of this realm. Lord of everyone, at some point. Lord of you right now."

Oh great. First my dad, then the Queen, then you, now this guy. I was kind of still enjoying you, to be honest. And -

"So are you the one who hurt this lady here? Why did you do that?"

Really? Me, chivalrous? Oh well - he does seem like a prick and I've always enjoyed poking pricks.

"She was an unfortunate victim of a power play between forces greater than she. A gesture of one offering misplaced aid.

You can have her if you want."

What?

Oh -

She looks at me, with sudden hope.

Oh, no...

"It would relieve me greatly. There is no place for me anywhere... with your permission, my Lord..."

Morphy or whatever his name is nods. She smiles, leans over to me.

You, my Lord, are a massive cock.

She kisses me, goes limp in my arms. I lay her down on the bench.

"I didn't know it worked that way?" I say.

"It does here," Lord Morphy says gravely. I don't think he can speak any other way, but this sounds particularly grave. "I think I must thank you. You've eased her burden."

Oh, really? "A burden that you caused in the first place, by making promises you couldn't keep - why did you toy with her?"

He seems to grow taller and more glowery, if that's possible.

"That is not for you to question."

"If it's up to me to solve an issue that you caused, I do think that it _is_ for me to question. Luring girls with love and then abandoning them is a dickish thing to do, especially as she seemed stuck here, with you ignoring her-"

" _ENOUGH._ "

Wow. That actually reverberated through my bones.

"You shall not question my actions in my realm. You shouldn't be here in the first place - like her, you have been caught up in affairs far larger than your understanding, thanks to my brother's foolish behaviour."

"I shouldn't be here in the first place? Well how did I end up here then? The lady said the raven who brought me here is one of yours."

"I brought you here to have a negotiation point with my brothers who are fighting over you. This nonsense has gone on long enough."

"Your brothers - who are fighting over _me_? But - I never met your other brother. Surely he can't just - claim me..."

My voice trails off. This guy claimed that girl without caring for what she wanted. I can't imagine _you_ ever being said no to. So if the other brother is like you two...

Well fuck that. Sebastian Moran is no pawn to be passed between conceited siblings. And this guy is your younger brother - he seemed a bit in awe of you...

"I demand that you return me to my Lord - my _actual_ Lord, your older brother. He won't appreciate you keeping me away from him."

He chuckles flatly. "He won't, but there's not a lot he can do the way he is at the moment. The risk of merging too much with your world. When he's back in his true form, he may come for you... and then we shall talk."

What does he mean 'he may come for you'?

May?

You - would, wouldn't you?

You wouldn't leave me here to - cry in this arbour?

Would you??

_I stare at your face as I stroke it. You will... be *alright*, won’t you?? You’ll come back?_

_“You *have* to come back, Sebastian...” I growl softly. “What I say goes... That is all there is to it, so you better get used to it...”_

_You continue sleeping peacefully, and I make a distressed noise in my throat. My hand stills on your cheek. Why... are you affecting me like this, anyway? I’ve known you for only a few days! And also. I’m *Jim fucking Moriarty* and I don’t get attached to people!!_

_But you’re not like most people are you..._

_If I was surprised by the feelings that arose about you being unconscious, I could not have been less prepared by what I find myself doing next. Lying down next to you... settling my body against yours, sliding my arm around your waist..._

_I’m not allowed to do such things... but no one is here to stop me. Only myself. But my Moriarty side is strangely silent..._

_Emboldened, I press my nose into your neck... and breathe in your scent._

_Mmm... I finally get why people do these things. It always seemed so ridiculous, so... *weak*. A wave of sadness moves through me. Can I only have this when you’re unconscious?_

_“I’m so tired, Sebastian...” I whisper into your neck, and press my lips against your skin. “So tired... having to be strong...” A sob catches in my throat, and I press my eyes shut tightly. Desperately trying to keep the dampness in - if they don’t escape, they’re *not tears*, I think desperately. They’re just moisture... not weakness._

_I press closer to you, suddenly exhausted. My eyes remain closed, my body grows heavy... and soon I feel myself surrounded by darkness..._

I'm pacing through the garden. Lord Voldemorph has disappeared, as has the lady - I guess she's better off now, but I am feeling decidedly uncomfortable with what she told me. Promised love, taken here, and abandoned...

can such as your brother feel love at all?

… can _you_?

What do I care though? Since when do _I_ feel love?

(You can fool yourself when you're awake all you like, Sebastian, but you can't lie when you're asleep. Remember the hypnotist's recording? _'Is Jim what you live for now?' 'Yes.’_ )

Shit. Am I in love?

( _Duh_.)

But - I said I'd never again -

(When you were _fifteen_ and your then-boyfriend died in a full Romeo and Julio drama. Of _course_ you swore never again. What angsty teenager wouldn't?)

But I have never...

(No, because you never met Jim. Now you have. Look, you can have a crisis of heart another time, alright? Now we're stuck in some twilight garden until Jim comes to talk with his brother to... negotiate for your release, or whatever.)

What if he doesn't come?

I look at the arbour. My handkerchief still lies on the bench, tear-stained.

_I find myself in a strange garden... in a strange land..._

_There’s a sense of *otherness* here - familiar but unfamiliar... a ‘not-quite-right-ness’ that is unsettling and fascinating..._

_There’s a tint to the sky like violet, marbled with chaos, iridescent with longing..._

_*I know this place*..._

_And - you were here. *Are still here*._

_I turn my head, and begin to walk with purpose._

_*But - how do I know where I’m going??*_

_(Shut up. WALK.)_

_*Wait - is that MY voice, or-*_

_(It’s you and so much more...)_

_*What the fuck?*_

_(Listen, Jimmy... there’s no time to explain. Do you want your Tiger back or not?)_

_*Of COURSE I do... he’s MINE.*_

_(Then do everything I say, or you’re in danger of losing him forever. Got that, sweetheart?)_

_I digest this as I walk, barely noticing the strange environment I’m passing through._

_*You’re him, aren’t you??*_

_(Him who, darling?)_

_The voice I’m hearing is sly... familiar.. *me*.. and *more* than me, as he said._

_*You’re... the One. The One who takes me over. The man I met on the rooftop...*_

_I hear the sound of slow clapping._

_(Bravo, darling. I’m also the One who’s going to get you through this, and get Sebastian back. Now - hurry! That palace is where he has OUR TIGER...)_

_None of this makes any sense. I’m in a strange world, rushing towards a palace in search of Sebastian? I’m listening to a voice in my head that belongs to a man I saw once in a dream? But it’s as familiar to me as my own hands, and I know every word he speaks is true._

_I move past twisting bushes with large swaying flowers, red as blood, that turn to look at me, their petals puckering like kissing lips..._

_bobbing bees, some wearing waistcoats and top hats, and some in white gowns, sipping nectar from champagne flutes..._

_Misty violet clouds floating by, whispering ‘My son you’ve been alone, so alone...’_

_I’m feeling sadder and stranger as I go deeper into this place, closer to the palace..._

_As I approach a walled garden, I’ve almost forgotten... wait... where was I going again? Oh - look at that waterfall in the distance..._

_(JIMMY! Keep going... His power over you grows stronger. You must reach Sebastian before he summons-)_

_*Sebastian? Who is Sebastian?* I think dreamily, as a sharp-eyed blue dragonfly flits about my head in a shimmering indigo mist..._

_Just then a magpie swoops down in front of me, parting the mist. I jump back in shock. The magpie alights on my shoulder and stares at me with gleaming black eyes. I gaze in fascination into the endless black pools, and suddenly it jumps forward and pecks the corner of my eye._

_I shriek my displeasure, and the magpie swoops about me, chirping madly. I touch the stinging corner of my eye and see blood shimmering on my finger._

_(Got your attention now, little fool? Now FOCUS. You remember Sebastian don’t you, Jimmy?)_

_“Do you take me for an imbecile?” I snap. “How DARE you attack me...”_

_The corner of my eye is dripping blood, like fecking tears..._

_I hear mad giggling, and I look about, my veins filling with black rage._

_(Good. *Very* good... your arrogance and fury will serve you well. Now GO!)_

_The magpie makes a shrieking sound, and flaps its wings at me in an explosion of black feathers. When it takes off into the garden, I follow with grim determination._

_As I enter, I see you pacing in front of an arbour, murmuring - your arms are wrapped about yourself, and you cradle a handkerchief against your face._

_“Sebastian...” I growl, and stride towards you._

I have no idea how much time I spend pacing the garden. There are arches in the wall, through which there are other bits of garden, but I need to stay here. What if you come and Morphy can't find me and I'm stuck here?

What if - you don't come?

At some point I must have picked up the handkerchief, because I'm rubbing it against my cheeks. It's still wet from the lady's tears. Surely not mine. I don't cry. Why would I cry?

I pace and pace through the grey grass, looking to see if Morphy is coming back, or his raven, or anyone...

I see a shape - the raven? No, it's a magpie... but underneath -

_JIM!?_

You're marching towards me with large steps as I run to you. I'm not going to jump you or hug you or anything - I just - need to - can I touch you? Just to make sure that you're here, and not a... figment of my imagination or something?

_My heart starts to race as you run towards me. I feel the urge to run too, but then what?? Why would I make a grand romantic gesture, for fuck’s sake? I just need to get you back home. Where you belong. To me._

_*With me*._

_A thrill moves through me as I walk steadily towards you. You slow down before you reach me, looking torn..._

_What am at supposed to do - hug you? Cover your face with kisses? Adorable. And not me._

_I reach out and grasp your shoulders - possessively. Yes. *This* I can do..._

_Fuck - it feels good to touch you again..._

_I give you a fierce smile. “Hallo, Tiger! I have no idea what’s happening here and I don’t fucking care. We’re getting out of here *now*...”_

_Oh. How *do* we get out of here? I look around. “I don’t suppose you know where the exit is, or you would have used it... so let’s just... wake up,” I tell you, with more confidence than I feel. Then I try, and - nothing._

_“Let’s pinch each other at the same time... or we might have to try something more intense,” I say with a wry smile. Your hands float up to my arms._

_I nod and we both pinch each other’s skin. Nothing._

_“Shit...” I mutter darkly._

You're touching me... you're real...

Wait, are you real? You look real... your eyes are - darker than normal - but it's still twilighty around here; so I can't be sure...

Which one are you?

You look around the meadow, scowling. The magpie squawks from the tree branch he's set himself on as I see another shape approaching - a raven.

(You're early,) he complains.

_I tilt my head and look at the talking raven. Interesting. Annoying. Whatever._

_“Is that right? Well, I must have lost my invitation...” I say, silky smooth. “I’ll just take Sebastian and we’ll both be out of your hair. And then I’ll return for tea and cakes at the appointed time..”_

_I glance around and look for what might count for an exit._

(He says you should come to the castle. Follow me.)

The raven flies off towards one of the arches in the wall. I look at you.

_“Fuck,” I mutter. “I’m hardly one who *does as he’s told*... far from it!! But-“ I look around at the strange surreal landscape - the waterfall in the distance now appears to be running *up* towards the cliff... flocks of birds in the sky are disappearing and reappearing... and now the land starts to rumble angrily underfoot, and cracks appear in the soil._

_“Jaisus...” I say with a scowl. “Well, I *suppose* we may be able to get some answers to this fecking mystery *at last*. Don’t worry, Tiger... I have no intention of staying here a *moment* longer than necessary...” I growl, and follow the raven. The magpie flies above us, squawking._

Christ. Your brother is not a very patient man, is he? Does it run in the family? I'm not too keen to meet the third brother, then...

I follow you to a fantasy castle. There are some rather awesome critters guarding the gate, who nod at you respectfully. "Welcome, Lord..." You wave at them absent-mindedly.

Inside there are the expected opulent corridors, stairs, ornaments - I get dizzy if I try to look at them too closely, so I focus on you. You are wearing your black suit and you look reassuringly _real_...

We enter a throne room (of course), where Morphy rises as he sees us enter.

"Brother... I hadn't expected you till later," he says. "Please, join me in the salon, let us have some refreshments..." He leads the way through a side door to a pleasant light room with chairs and occasional tables on which are pastries, fruits, and little sandwiches. He takes a black decanter and pours three glasses of weird liquid, hands one to each of us.

_I hold up the glass and sniff at the liquid. “You haven’t done something tedious to it, have you?” I sigh. “I won’t suddenly be under your control? Sebastian won’t turn into a pumpkin?”_

_He merely raises an eyebrow._

_I sigh. “Oh *forgive* the implication... Brother dearest, was it?”_

_He nods. “Ah... it’s not night-time back in your world, is it... you’re not fully *him*...”_

_The magpie swoops across the room and circles the glasses. Then he alights on my shoulder and flutters his wings, rather pointedly. We both look at him and he gazes at me with his endless black eyes._

_(Drink,) I hear in my mind. (He’s not that kind of boy, are you Morphy? Just a humourless git, the poor lamb...)_

_Morphy seems to be listening intently to the air. “There you are...” he says with satisfaction._

_*Who are you*? I demand silently._

_But Morphy’s starry eyes tell me he hears everything._

_(I’m the coda... the denouement... the punchline... the final curtain waiting to tumble to the stage.....) The whisper through my mind makes me shiver deliciously. (Look into your heart, little one... You know me *intimately*...)_

_My eyes widen, then lock with yours. *Oh*..._

_I throw back the drink in the glass, and gesture at you to the do the same._

_“Another, please... if you’d be so kind...” I say to the tall man before me._

The drink tastes of long-forgotten summer nights, a field scented with myriad grasses and flowers, drinking and smoking and fucking... it's wistful and delicious.

You hold your second glass, move to one of the chairs, step onto it, and set yourself on the stuffed armrest, lean forward, your elbows on your knees.

"You are holding what is mine. I demand you release him."

Your brother shakes his head.

"There are rules even you must follow," he intones.

You narrow your eyes. "Rules are for people not intelligent enough to make their own decisions."

"If we can't trust each other, how can we function? If we fight - what will become of reality?"

You shrug. "It will find a way. It always does."

"Your man is here and will stay here until I release him back to the world. If you take him from here to your own realm... you know what will happen."

You scowl. "You are treading a _very_ dangerous path..."

Your eyes flash black.

"I'm calling a Conclave,” your brother says. “All seven of us, on neutral ground. Then we shall decide."

_I sit sipping my drink imperiously to buy myself some time. Meanwhile, my head is *spinning*. It’s not every day one solves a decade-old mystery, discovers a secret identity, and goes head to head with... what are they again?_

_(Endless...) the magpie chirps, with amusement. (And not *they*... *WE*.)_

_*We are Endless*..._

_Fuck..._

_I shake my head._

_Well, that’s a lot to happen in one fell swoop, but if it’s going to happen to anyone, of course it would be me, I think as I swirl the incandescent liquid in the glass._

_I hear the magpie giggling. Now that I’ve made my connection with my silent companion of all these years, it all fits. All makes sense. And if these were normal circumstances, perhaps there would be time to process some feelings about it, but I have bigger things on my mind - much *bigger things*, all heading to neutral ground, one of which is claiming you as his own, and I will *not* allow myself to be swayed by silly emotions when so much is on the line..._

_I put down the drink emphatically on a table with porcine legs, which trots away - the liquid shaking as it does. In the distance I hear tinkling glass, and I shake my head._

_“Oh, Morphy... I had nearly forgotten how whimsical this place could be... I’d think you’d be more amusing with such frivolities running about...”_

_He lifts a shoulder, all broody elegance. “Where we’re going, there will be little in the way of amusement... are you prepared for this, brother?”_

_“Oh, there is always amusement to be had...” I smile slyly, and wave my hand. “Fine... call the Conclave, brother dear. But I’ll need time to talk with Sebastian *first*.”_

"Go ahead..." he raises his hand and we're in the stone arbour, ostensibly alone, though I can feel him all around us. This is his realm indeed...

The raven pokes his head round the corner. (He says he won't spy on you, scout's honour,) he says, then flies off.

I look at you.

"What. The fuck."

_I sink back against the bench, and cover my eyes._

_“What. The fuck. Indeed,” I mutter._

_My hands drop to my sides. “Well, I know why I’ve been sleepwalking. So that little mystery is solved. Have you figured out my secret identity, Sebastian? Only now there’s some kind of epic clusterfuck brewing involving *you* and who gets to *keep* you...” I look down and my hands have balled into fists._

_“And I have to outfox six entities of immeasurable potency to be the one...” I murmur and look up at you. Seeing your face, I feel an unfamiliar feeling... What is this thing that’s come over me??_

"I know who you are. I think I know who I am. But all these others - I know them, but I can't consciously - verbalize it," I struggle. "Like, I see your brother, and I don't know him, but at the same time I know him intimately; I know I've known him all my life.

And your other brother... I saw him, and I know I know him too... and -"

No. I can't say this - that I'd been wooing him too, like I'd been you, that he attracted me with his wildness, his abandon, his vigour...

But - it was different. You were both _ideas_ , sweeping me along in your wake, but you are something more... this other side of you...

"I want to be with you. I love you."

_Your words cut through me and a flurry of emotions rears up, each swallowed by the last..._

_*No.*_

_Don’t be ridiculous... It *doesn’t exist...*_

_You mustn’t *say such things*!_

_*Ohh.*_

_..._

_It’s the last one that throws me, leaves me staring at you in shock._

_(No sense of self-preservation, hmm? But then, I like that in a man...) the voice within starts off purring, and then grows hard like cold, glinting diamonds. (My brother is in for a nasty shock if he thinks I will *give him up*...)_

_I’m still grappling with the enormity of what I’ve learned in this place, and now to hear these words from you... but I think I heard them once before. In a dream...? But isn’t *this* a dream? I think in a daze._

_“Do you, Tiger?” I hear myself whisper. This is how I know it’s a dream, because me in the cold light of day would have laughed my arse off at such sentimentality, especially after knowing me for only a few days... and then I would have tormented you for such impertinence. But my usual ways do not seem to apply here, in this place... Instead I find myself reaching out and stroking your cheek._

_“You know I won’t let you go, Sebastian... I’ll let the fabric of reality tear itself to ribbons first...” I mutter darkly._

_Your pupils are huge, and you’re staring at me like I’m the maiden in distress and the hero all in one..._

_I lean in and kiss you fervently, and everything else disappears - there is just youyouyou, your lips, your sighs..._

_*Mine*, I think as my tongue slips into your mouth._

_(Mine), the dark voice echoes in my mind, as your arms circle around my back._

_When we finally break apart, we stare at each other hungrily._

_“Let them try to take you from me,” I whisper. “We leave together - or we watch the whole bloody thing burn...”_

"I won't be taken from you. I don't know what I'll do, but I won't," I assure you.

Though how I'm supposed to resist ones such as you... I don't know.

You rise up and shout, "We're ready Morphy! Bring on your Conclave!"

Your brother appears in front of the arbour, his raven flapping beside him.

"I have contacted the others. They were expecting this.

Choose our neutral ground."

You cock your head. "John Crow's and the Goose's? A place for all of us."

Morphy snorts. "A prostitute's graveyard? Hardly. Tower Hill?"

You shake your head. "Mustn't lose our head...

The Toot Hill at Thorney Island, before the Houses, when the seven trees stood."

Your brother nods. "It shall be so."

He waves his hand and I have a feeling in my stomach like I'm falling; a rainbow of darkness swirling round me, I curl up into myself, squeeze my eyes shut -

When I am stationary again I open them. I'm sitting on a large stone, at the top of a low grassy hill next to a river. There are trees spaced around - you are standing facing me under a large oak, wearing your black suit, looking your usual gorgeous and immaculate self. You raise an eyebrow and smirk at me, then roll your eyes.

A few metres to your left is a second oak, under which stands your brother, ostentatious in his black flame-lined cloak. I wonder if he has any normal clothes. Anyone who knew you would assume _you_ would be the drama queen of any family...

The oaks appear to go in a circle around the top of the hill. Under the next one stands a man I recognize from when I first saw him in Afghanistan, all those years ago. Sturdy, with long ginger hair and a rusty beard, wearing jeans and a lumberjack shirt, an axe across his back. He is attractive, certainly... but in the way that the mirror is attractive on a good day. He is not a par on your fascinating venomous beauty...

As I watch him, a small blond girl comes running across the grass, trailing bubbles and butterflies in her wake. She jumps into the ginger man's arms, wraps around him. "I missed you so much!" Her voice sounds like cracked silver bells. "You mustn't go away again... promise me."

He sets her on the ground, carefully. "I won't... if justice is done today," he says in a gruff voice, looking at me.

The blond girl dances over to me. "I remember you," she laughs. "We had fun - well, mostly fun. Until it wasn't fun any more..."

I try to look at her face, but it keeps changing. It does evoke memories - of late late nights of too much drink and drugs - of dripping ceilings and cosmic jeans -

I blink, she laughs, and a goldfish swims out. Then she bounces back behind me.

Under the tree to your ginger brother's left is the most beautiful - person... - I've ever seen. I can't by rights say if it's a man or a woman - they're perfectly balanced, and _stunning_. This is new - I'm bisexual, but in general I like my men masculine and my women feminine - the androgynous look never did it for me. But he-she is gorgeous... although too perfect to be really attractive. Not a hair out of place, they're like a doll or a concept rather than actual beauty.

And again, so familiar... like I've been chasing them down endless clubs, followed them home to countless bedrooms, drowned myself in them again and again...

Underneath the next tree is a naked woman, as ugly as the other is beautiful. Crooked gnarled teeth, spiked greasy hair, dull lifeless eyes, a lumpy misshapen body - she trails her hand across her arm, leaving a long gouge dripping with dark blood. She smiles, making me shudder.

"You were mine first..." she winks. "Don't worry, I'm not _jealous_..."

A laugh like nails scratching down a blackboard. Her brother/sister smiles.

The next tree has the blond girl sitting on a leaf, colourful caterpillars crawling on the bark underneath her. She waves.

I'm nearly all the way round the circle... the figure under the last tree is wearing a hooded robe, her face nearly hidden. She carries a large book, in which she is reading. It's chained to her wrist. The cover is leather, and ancient, without marking.

She speaks without looking up from her book.

"Dear siblings... We are here today in this place of power at the heart of the primary triangle, where Justice shall be spoken. A dispute has arisen between our oldest and our youngest brother, and their brother has called this Conclave to resolve it.

Please, state your case."

She nods at Morphy.

_I maintain my expression - one part gleeful amusement, one part boredom, two parts cruel feline arrogance..._

_a dash of fury, a soupçon of madness..._

_My siblings and I regard each other, sly smiles flashing at dour scowls..._

_No one hugs except my sweet, mad sister and the brother who started all this nonsense in the first place. I tip my non-existent hat to him, and he growls softly._

_Morphy shoots us both looks of warning before he begins._

_“Brethren... between us we will be able to reach accord amicably. So let us not fight and threaten the great balance. Our youngest brother had the first claim... our oldest - well, he appears to have been swept away by merging with his current form and living in the mortal world. So let us not bandy about accusations. It was a mistake, and we should move on to a resolution.”_

_“Hold, dearest,” I drawl. “I reject your claim for it was no mistake. Look how well he performs his duties as my associate. I’ve never been so pleased-“_

_"You’re welcome," coughs my stunning sister-brother. His-her twin laughs loudly until she chokes, and gobs up a spattering of phlegm at her feet._

_I roll my eyes. Morphy scowls._

_“The point is *not* how well he performs...” he counters in a flinty voice._

_My sister-brother makes an obscene gesture, accompanied by rather suggestive noises. Her twin barks out a laugh._

_“-but whose claim is binding.” Morphy continues emphatically._

_“Oooh, he *likes* bindings...” she-he trills._

_“*Enough*,” he snaps. “You’ll get your turn...”_

_She-he looks you up and down and licks his/her lips. “I *hope* so...”_

_“*No one* touches Sebastian but me,” I say softly._

_I’m furious at the thought, but I clamp down on my rage. Six heads turn to look at me._

_“I don’t care about the first claim... too late, honey...” I coo. “My claim has *already been staked*. I remember when the original law was ‘grab what you can and don’t get caught ‘... who else misses the good old days?” My head drops back and I sigh theatrically. “So be quick and be clever, hmm darling? Because the Devil takes the hindmost. Besides... who does it look like Sebastian wants to be with?” I say seductively, then walk over, wrap my body around you, and kiss your lips. I hear a roar and open my eyes to see Morphy holding my brother back... and I smile._

"Please return to your place, brothers," the woman in the cloak says. You sigh, kiss my forehead, and move back to your oak.

"Eldest brother. Please state your case. And please be civil, all of you."

_“Hear that, darling?” I say pointedly to my red-haired brother, who glowers. Morphy quickly shakes his head at me with a pained expression - which for him is the equivalent of covering his face and wailing ‘why are you doing this!’_

_But I get his point - I’m not at full strength and I shouldn’t be goading someone who thrives on destruction._

_But ‘shouldn’t’ so rarely factors into my decisions - and if I’ve got as far as I have in life on a wing and a prayer, then - this is no different than what I would normally do. Laugh in the face of insurmountable odds, and bend the world to my will._

_“Darlings... Here’s why my claim is the true one...” I begin, and trail off. My mind is blank. Come on - *talk*. Do what you do best..._

_Nine sets of eyes are staring at me - my siblings, you, and two glossy birds._

_My heart starts to race._

_“Because...” I say slowly, and my eyes meet yours. “When has the Lord of the Underworld ever wanted anything for himself?”_

_“That’s it?” My youngest brother snaps. “You finally found a toy you want, so we should just give it to you?”_

_“You have nothing to *give* me,” I correct him pleasantly. “Because he’s already mine. And that is the *last time* you will refer to Sebastian as a toy...”_

_The ground rumbles, and my siblings look at each other uneasily._

_“Play nice...” Morphy mutters._

_“Nice?” I echo. “But I intend to *win*, darling...”_

What the fuck.

I'm not going to sit here and have a bunch of weirdos discuss who gets to take me home.

"Ex _cuse_ me," I say, standing up. "I'm not a fucking toy. I am not some prize to be awarded to whichever one of you has the best _argument_. I'm a grown man and a soldier and I have had more than enough of this shit. I don't know who you are, stranger," I say to the ginger man -

_oh but I do, I know you so intimately, I've been with you all my life_

"- but I have sworn myself to your brother and I am going home with him. I don't know who you all are or why you think you get to fucking _play_ with me, but I've had enough."

I stomp off towards you, or intend to, but notice my feet aren't working.

"I'm afraid you will have to stay here until the Conclave is over," Lord Morphy intones. "This is a conflict between forces greater than you. My brother was aggrieved - you are the incentive of the aggrievance, but you are not party to this. Please do not interrupt again."

That's it. I'm going to deck that pompous twat. As soon as I can move again.

_I watch you smugly as you speak. Of course, they won’t consider the feelings of a mere mortal, associate or no..._

_And then you can’t move - god, what I wouldn’t give to swagger off with you here and now. But we’ll just have to wait a little longer, my darling…_

_“Well said, Sebastian,” I purr. “And as for conflict between great forces, Morphy darling... that’s an easy fix. Find someone else to embody,” I say to my glowering brother. “Like there’s a shortage of people who enjoy being destructive and violent in the world? You can find another form...”_

_“No. Find another associate,” he says tersely._

_“This isn’t about being an *associate*,” I counter, my voice growing sharp._

_His eyes gleam. “It’s not? Well, I’m confused, big brother... why else would you want him?”_

_I glare. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”_

_“That’s exactly what you need to do,” my cloaked sister intones._

_“I made him mine. That is explanation enough...” I say with a yawn._

_“Oh no, brother... not nearly enough,” my red-haired brother says through gritted teeth. “What use could *you* possibly have for him beyond being your associate? There’s something you’re not saying...”_

_“Oh he’s saying it, alright,” my sister-brother says gleefully. “But none of you have eyes to see it!”_

_“I have eyes!” My blonde sister pipes up excitedly. “I see it!”_

_“Well, don’t keep us in the dark!” he-she responds in a husky voice. “Why does our dear brother want this beautiful man all for himself?”_

_My blonde sister looks at me doubtfully. “But it’s his secret...”_

_I feel a surge of panic flaring up throughout this conversation. Bloody hell... what... is happening...?_

Embody? Wait what?

I look at the ginger man again. He looks like me, if I would grow out my hair...

Does that mean - he'd take me over? Like the man who looked like you took you over?

But - I'd lose you - you'd be my brother -

I groan, grab my head. This is all insane. I think Morphy may be right and this is beyond me - but I _need_ to understand; they're literally negotiating about me, like I'm a dog whose ownership is disputed -

_But I'm a Tiger..._

Your other siblings are joining in, wanting to know your claim on me - well, isn't it obvious? I'm _yours_ -

\- except what I am, what I feel, what I know doesn't count here, does it... it's just about you lot, whoever you are -

 _Endless_...

"Look, it's clear," the naked woman says. She walks over to me, eyeing me up and down, making me shiver. "He's delectable... we might all _desire_ him. And he has been with us all... he's such a _generous_ lover."

She strokes me with her hand, which has a metal ring with a sharp hook. It hooks into my skin, makes some blood come out. "I know I spent _many_ a night with him... wallowing together in his empty apartment... didn't we, darling..." Her eyes bore into mine, grey and wet and desolate...

"That is of course when he wasn't chasing our little sister here in an attempt to escape me," she smiles, turning away, thank goodness, pointing at the blonde girl.

"Or our sister-brother - so many nights were spent in their company... but you'd always come back to me in the morning, wouldn't you..." her hand strokes again, another nick into my skin.

"Stop that!" you bark.

"I'm just saying," she shrugs, "we all have some claim on him. Even the Prince of Stories has had him in his realm countless times. And everyone belongs to our big sister in the beginning and the end and all time in between.

So, our brother had the first claim. But you say yours trumps his.

Why is that, Dark One?"

The beautiful woman-man giggles.

_I watch my hideous hag of a sister, eyes narrowing... touch him again, sweetheart. I will break this truce and deal with the consequences..._

_But there must be a better way - not that I mind the notion of chaos, and I'm fairly certain I could hold my own against all of them... except... perhaps my hooded sister? And if they join forces...?_

_The magpie watches me intently._

_Yes yes, I know... I'm not at full power... and Sebastian has *no* power here..._

_I need to find another way than all-out war..._

_I listen uneasily as my vile sister speaks... and grow more and more disturbed as she utters her despairing words... wait, am I being affected by her??_

_I shake off the grey feeling of bleakness emanating from her. Disgusting wretch, I seethe. Oh you *all* have a claim on him, do you??_

_I step forward, fuming._

_"Why? Because I *want* him..." I snap._

_"Mmm, me too..." my brother-sister says, licking their lips at you._ _"All this *claiming* is getting me hot and bothered in my tender bits. Maybe I'll join in the fun... I want the pretty soldier to come home with *me*."_

_The blonde girl stomps her foot. "That's not fair... I didn't know we could claim him, too! We had such fun together..."_

_You look at me desperately._

_"Stop this. You *can't* claim him," I growl at my brethren._

_"Why's that?" she-he says, pouting._

_"Because I-" my eyes lock on yours. "I have feelings for him..."_

_"Feelings?" she-he says petulantly. "What *feelings*?"_

_I can't avoid this any longer. Your eyes are huge... shimmering blue oceans beckoning for me to jump into your depths. This is it - if I don't speak, I may lose you forever..._

_"I... love him..." I whisper, and step towards you._


	13. Iron Words Forged in Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my time I've been struck dumb by the sun. Stars fall into my heart, a pool of fire. I am a man grown weary of ignorance, consumed in darkness and light. Give me a mouth, I want to talk. I am a child of earth and sky who rose from the buried egg, who followed his heart like light following the sun into this season of fire.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, Chapter XXII. Translation Normandi Ellis.

Even if I weren't fixed to this spot, I'd have been frozen.

I stare at you, mouth open.

_... love him..._

But - you -

Day-you can't do love; night-you loves everyone, but only in the end...

I know _I_ love _you_ , but that is normal - you are divine, no, beyond divine.

You are what is attained at the end of desire...

You - are beyond love -

but you love _me_.

You look at me, your eyes large and dark and full of - something -

I can see the possessiveness I saw earlier, but -

you speak the truth.

You love me.

Your siblings are all shouting at once. The pretty one laughs, exclaims 'Finally!' exultantly. The young sisters sound excited, but Gingerbeard and Morphy are angry.

"You _always_ take what's mine! You take _everything_ in the end!"

"You _can't_! You _cannot_ love!"

"And why not?!" you shout at them angrily. " _You_ loved," you point at Morphy. "Even though she didn't want you to! You _punished_ her for refusing to destroy her world to be with you - and now you are telling _me_ I can't love someone who _does_ want to love me back? How _is_ Nada, anyway? Been to hell lately?"

Morphy looks furious. "She would have been a Goddess! People can come to my realm! You will _destroy_ him if you take him! Is that what you want?"

_I’m rather enjoying the mayhem and cacophony, but I’m all too aware it’s taking me away from what I really want. I just fucking declared my love to another -_

_\- not *another* - YOU._

_And now I want to be with you, and these annoying fuckers are standing in my way._

_Then Morphy says something that makes my chest feel tight._

_My touch - in my full power, I would kill him._

_“We’ll just - continue as we have before...” I say weakly. “In the day time, we can touch...”_

_“Oh no,” my red-haired brother says warningly. “If my claim is thrown over, it has to be something real. Easy enough to declare your love... easy enough to change your mind, like our fickle brother...”_

_“Excuse me... I was on *your* side,” Morphy says to him in a tight, irritated voice._

_“My side was the right side! Not the side of ‘oooooh, I love him and want to frolic about with him for 16 hours a day, until something else shiny comes my way!” he snarls, growing red-faced. “I would make him *Endless* and you would make him a *plaything*...”_

_Morphy smiles slowly. “He makes a good point, brother... you’ve never been in love before... and you will learn its capricious nature and cast him aside...”_

_My brother-sister sighs. “Can’t argue that, I’m afraid... Shame, you were so close to taking him home...”_

_“What’s happening?” My blonde sister whispers, looking confused._

_“He lost,” my hideous sister says mournfully, and cuts her arm. Blood trickles down, and she licks it._

_“I did *not* lose... because I will *not* cast him aside...” I say, my voice shaking with black fury. “I *know* what I feel, and this is real... Sebastian. I don’t want to be without you... ever...” I say, my voice thick with emotion._

Wait wait wait wait.

No.

No _fucking_ way.

Jim - _loves_ me.

He _loves_ me.

The most beautiful, powerful - man - being - entity in the universe _loves_ me and these - _idiots_ want to take me away from him?

_I will destroy the WORLD..._

"That's my boy..." Gingerbeard grins.

"I am _not_!" I roar furiously.

I turn to you. Jim - no, you're not Jim, well, you are partially, but you are Him...

"My Dark Lord," I say. That sounds better. I swallow.

"Remember - the night we got together. Why I pulled you to me. What I became - when you gave me your kiss.

If I fulfil that... couldn't I be in your realm? If I -

die?"

Your pained look tells me all I need to know.

"The dead don't go to my realm... it would be overflowing if they did. I just meet them at the end... then they go on to whatever afterlife they subscribed to. For you, it would be oblivion... you'd be gone completely..."

_When I see your crushed expression, I feel a sharp pain in my heart, and my insides twist as though I’m being wrung out like a tattered tea towel._

_I actually feel something for another, and he gets taken away from me immediately?? If God existed, he would be a *mad, sadistic motherfucker*, I think seething. I have to stop myself from laughing maniacally at the thought... because it sounds like someone else I know, and now is not the time, and the last thing Sebastian needs is me breaking down and laughing hysterically..._

_Jesus, look at me... thinking about someone else’s feelings._

_Fat lot of good it did me to learn this in the final stretch..._

_Because I know you’re *it* for me... I will *never* feel this way again._

_Because after everything, I still don’t believe in Love. Love is *you* only - end of story._

_End of *our* story... And now I’m desperately trying not to break into soul-crushing sobs. But these fuckers will not see one tear from me. Ever._

_My mouth tightens, and a muscle in my jaw twitches._

_“My dark brother...” a voice says quietly._

_I don’t need to turn to see it is my hooded sister who speaks._

_“We need hear no more...” she intones. “I must inform you that an Endless claiming a suitable human as an avatar takes precedence over an Endless falling in love - which does not have relevance in our interplay, or in keeping our great Balance. Indeed such a wilful act as taking away another’s avatar would plunge us into discord and chaos. The human belongs to our youngest brother, without question. He is relinquished, and possession may be undertaken - immediately.”_

_My heart is slowly sinking at these words, and then starts plummeting into a free fall. I feel it happen the moment she speaks the words - I feel you being torn from me despite our bond, and I gasp._

_No!! *Sebbie*..._

_I turn to look at you, wild-eyed. You stare back in horror._

_Our youngest brother is striding towards you with a grim smile, his boots shaking the earth._

_*NO!!*_

No -

No fuck you - I don't want you -

"Oh, but you do, my darling..." the ginger man speaks as he strides towards me, then stands in front of me. "Don't you remember? You've chased me for ever... before you ever even thought about my brother."

His blue eyes stare into mine. And I do, I do remember...

Breaking my toys when I was angry...

throwing crockery at my father when he was being a dick, which was always...

that summer when Pete and I got to demolish the coach house and we had the time of our life with sledgehammers...

the army, where I specialized in demolitions - nothing is better than blowing shit up, _nothing -_

flames and shockwaves and roaring thunder, so exhilarating...

"That's it... remember? You love me... love Destruction..."

"... I thought I did..." I manage to protest.

I did, but that wasn't love - not _really_ \- not what I feel for you...

The ginger man scowls, steps forward, _into_ me...

A dizzying sensation-

\- and then I'm looking out at my siblings, finally in possession of my rightful avatar, _finally_ feeling the body respond to my signals... I flex my fingers, make a fist... ah, _yes_... oh god, I'm going to have such fun...

Big Brother is looking furious - and - despondent -

The form hurts when it sees that - well, it will forget about him. Together we will make the world _burn_... no time to mope for silly brothers.

"Wait!" Desire holds up his/her hand. What are they up to now? I scowl, keen to get away from here, try out this new form.

They move a hand through their raven-black hair, looking for once less arrogant than usual.

"I'm not asking you to give up your avatar," they hold up their hand as they see my scowl, "but I'd ask a favour, for the ones that are host to you, brothers –

let them spend one last night together.

Their day-forms, mortal forms, had no idea that this was going to happen - they said good night and went to sleep, and now they would be separated without having a chance to say goodbye - or even to declare their love.

Just one night - put them back where and when we got them, as their human selves, but with the memories of what happened here, and who they truly are. Let them have that final evening together. Then when midnight comes, and both turn into their Endless selves, Destruction can gather his avatar's things and move back to his dwelling, and you both can go your separate ways.

They have given themselves to you - I'd say they've earned this."

I'm not used to Desire looking less than insufferably smug. Or being altruistic.

But my form - he _yearns_ for it. He desires - no - loves my brother's form intensely.

A pang of - guilt? No - but - commiseration. He is a good man. He courted me for many years, and he's perfect for me, but he's still human - prone to human emotions.

"Very well," I say, magnanimously. "We will send them back to the day they left, and they can spend their evening together, aware that they must part, and make it sweet. Then tonight we will both go our separate ways. I accede.

You too, brother?"

_*Fuck you*, I think dully. But I can’t risk him changing his mind..._

_“You’re very kind...” I say, and despite my best intentions, it comes out sounding like a curse. I see my youngest brother shiver - now in Sebastian’s form._

_So I can’t even wish him harm..._

_“I concur,” I mutter darkly._

_I find myself waking up in bed, thinking back on the most bizarre dream. You're lying beside me. I turn towards you to share with you what I remember, and laugh about how silly dreams are... planning to get in a quickie before we wander downstairs to raid the kitchen for booze and crisps like giggling adolescents. Strange that I would wake up feeling *so connected* with you, so... *romantic*?_

_As soon as I see your eyes, we both freeze._

_Oh gods..._

Fuck, that was an intense dream... so weird...

I'm in your bed. I feel you stir, open my eyes, to see what mood you're in.

Wait - what is that look?

Oh - _fuck_ –

"... not a dream?" I whisper.

_“I don’t - think so -“ I whisper back. Panic rears up in me, and I roll over onto my back, breathing steadily and covering my eyes._

_Think, Jim - *think*._

_“Tell me if this is what you experienced. I discovered why I’ve been sleepwalking - I’m one of the seven Endless. I tried to defend my claim to you and - lost. And... my youngest brother won, and took you over. And will take you away... at midnight,” my voice wavers._

_My eyes open, and I turn to look at you. “Does that ring a bell, darling?” I ask hoarsely._

_darling_...

You said you loved me -

... and I'm taken away from you?!? Because I am the chosen avatar of some ancient force called Destruction!?

True to form, I roar and grab the nearest object - your bedside reading light - pull off its cord and throw it against the wall opposite the bed, hitting your framed map, shattering both. I want to _kick_ the _shit_ out of -

\- someone -

something -

"No! No; fuck, no!!! Destruction! You fucking creep! I love this man! I fucking love him! You're not taking me _away_ from him! He's the _only good thing_ that's happened to me since I was fifteen! Blowing shit up has _nothing_ on him! I'm _his_ , not yours! You can't _have_ me! Can't just - take my body - you - demon!"

I need to destroy, which makes me angrier, as that is what _he_ would do... I grab the stuffed chair, bash it against the wall, breaking a leg, again, another leg, again, again, again...

_God, the look on your beautiful face... I watch as you are overcome with grief and then fury._

_A lamp smashes. The sound is like two hearts falling to the floor and shattering._

_I listen as you roar out your anguish, feeling numb. A chair slams against the wall, over and over and over._

_I feel nothing. I am nothing._

_Nothing matters._

_With each smashing sound, I feel a strange sensation. My fingers float to my eyes and come away wet._

_Oh... yes. I remember these, I think dimly as my eyes squeeze shut and I begin to shake._

I am still holding the backrest of the chair, shaking, seeing what else I can destroy, and hating myself for it, when I look at you -

Oh god -

Jim -

 _Jim needs me_ -

You look so pale and lost; so unlike you - and suddenly I see what you must have looked like as a boy, before you became Death, before you subjected the world to your will...

How much of you is still that boy? How much of you is _you_ during the day, and how much is - the Endless? Will I be myself during the day? How will I not tear down the city to be with you? Will he prevent me?

I feel Destruction inside me, his anger and jealousy towards you. Oh god he's never going to let me see you ever again...

"Jim..."

I drop the remains of the chair, let myself fall onto the bed, next to you, pull you into my arms. Every sob stabs straight into my heart and tears it open like Despair's hook...

_“What the fuck,” I whisper raggedly. “I don’t *do*tears... what the fuck, Sebastian??”_

_I cling to you, and bury my face into your chest._

_“I don’t understand... how any of this happened... I barely know you, but-“_

_My throat tightens painfully, and I dissolve into sobs that wrack my body like I’m being torn apart._

_“I *fucking know everything I need to*, and - I w-want you - I *LOVE* you, and... *I can’t lose you now*!!” I howl, and slam my fists into your chest._

No.

No, no, no, no.

It's like - all my life I've lived in black and white, and then I met _you_ and I suddenly saw colour - granted, mostly black and red, but -

 _you_ are my _life_ \- and I've known you for what, three days? And now -

\- you're _crying_ for me -

NO!!!

I'll wreck the fucking world, tear it to pieces -

\- but that's not going to help, is it -

Oh god you're sobbing your heart out - and it breaks mine -

tears are streaming down my cheeks and I don't do this, don't cry -

" _Jim_... oh god Jim... I won't go, we'll think of something, he won't take me, he won't..."

But he already has. I feel him inside me, smug, biding his time, knowing the prize is his.

I'm not a _fucking_ _prize_!

_“Oh god, oh fuck... if there was a way, Sebastian, I would find it. But I don’t feel it - I don’t feel an opening... a way out... there is *always* a way out for me. Why can’t I find it!!” I whimper._

_I turn up my face with my wet, streaming eyes - all the useless salt I’m shedding to no avail - and you look at me desperately._

_Fuck... I need to fix this, fix this for me and my Tiger..._

_but you’re not mine any more are you..._

_no, you will *always* be my Tiger!!_

_“You’re mine for always, *mine* no matter what that fucker has done... and I’ll think of something my darling, there *has* to be a way...” I say brokenly._

_But for the life of me I can’t see it, oh god, this is really happening... “Please believe me, Tiger... if there’s a way, we’ll find it...”_

_But I have a sinking feeling in my heart that I won’t... and I will be forced to exist for eternity without you, and unable to put an end to my suffering. Please *no*, I howl silently to the infinite darkness that I used to find so soothing, so majestic - and now it stretches before me Iike a monstrous mouth that will swallow me whole and tear me to pieces, grinding me to bits in its merciless jaws..._

Fuck -

"Right. Stop. We must stop panicking and find a way out of this."

I'm a fucking _soldier_ and I've been in impossible situations before and thought and fought my way out of them - I can do that again. I _must_.

I head to the bathroom, wet two washcloths, bring them in, hand one to you, wipe my face. You do the same, blow your nose on a tissue.

You seem calmer.

"Let's make a battle plan," I say.

Sounds good right? _Battle plan_. Meaning we win or we die.

I start pacing around the bedroom.

"So - there are these seven - immortal forces - older than the gods -" (oh I now believe in gods, do I? _Don't go there_ \- if I start exploring all the new stuff in my brain I'll go mad -) "called the Endless. And - sometimes they take human avatars? Some of them do, at least. Most of them. The oldest, Destiny, doesn't.

Anyway. So you - Jim-you - were taken as Death's avatar when you were nineteen. That's when I started seeing you - Death-you. And the first time, I also saw your brother, Destruction.

So - the reason I saw you both, though others couldn't, was because your brother had tagged me as his avatar, to become his on a specific day - which was two days ago, when I became yours. He didn't possess me immediately, because..." - I search inside - "he was in a different - dimension? World? Fuck, you can do all that??"

I shake my head to clear the images. They're of weird shapes tumbling up in non-existent colours and dizzying and confusing.

"Then I saw you more often, in situations where there was a lot of death. And I met some of the others, now I know to recognize them - I've fucked Desire, and tripped with Delirium, and seen Despair in the cold light of morning... and of course met the Lord of Dreams regularly. Heh. Morphy -" I snigger.

"So, then a few days ago -

I'd been dragging myself through what remained of my life, and I'd had enough. I was at such a low. I thought it would be better if I just died."

I rub my hand over my face. It seems so long ago...

"Destruction was coming back from where he had been, and was on his way to me, but you got there first. And gave me your kiss. Which made me your - associate. One of the - not avatars, but below that. The ones who do the work, but are still half human - demigods? So I did, for some nights. But I was more - at least I hope you didn't treat your other associates in the same way..."

_Battle plan - yes. As I listen to you speak calmly about the situation and assess our circumstances, I feel myself growing soothed. I don’t let myself get swept away by emotions like that... when I opened up my heart, I must have thrown aside my usual armour against such things as *grief* and *tears*. I feel raw, like I’ve been scrubbed at from the inside. But a return to rational thought is very welcome and needed._

_What? Treat my associates in the same way as-?_

_Ohh..._

_I smile faintly. “Hardly. But then most associates didn’t appear next to me in bed, looking sexy and lost.” I tousle your hair mournfully. If only I had known how I would come to feel and what little time we’d have..._

_I shove this feeling to the side. We only have a few hours left together - we need to focus if we’re going to think of a way out of this._

_“I have never heard of an avatar expelling one of the Endless, but there’s a very good reason for that...” I muse. “Avatars are selected based on their affinity for their particular Endless - a bond that *already exists*. It’s like slipping into an amplified version of themselves - they get to be themselves, but... with more power than would be possible as a human. As far as I know, no avatar has ever resisted... *I* certainly didn’t, even though I wasn’t aware of it consciously. After that night on the roof, I felt stronger, safer, *invulnerable*... now I know why.” I grow silent for a moment, thinking. “I know you understand what I’m talking about... once he possesses you, I should think it would be impossible to pull yourself free. Because on a profound level, you’ll be changed. If there’s a chance, I believe it would have to come before... but I can’t think what’s invulnerable to Destruction...”_

_If only I was fully Death... Maybe I could see his vulnerabilities more clearly. But then if I were fully Death, you would be fully Destruction, I think to myself, wincing._

"Destruction was *furious* when you took me,” I say, looking at his memories of me. “Destroyed a high-rise building, then ran off, telling the Endless that this was it, you had insulted him one time too many, and he was off. He went somewhere hidden - like - outside time and space, or something. They felt bad - it upsets their balance when one of them - you - us - is missing.

You may not have noticed because you were distracted with your new toy, but he knew that they would beg him to come back. Morpheus was the one to contact him, and then contacted you…

And now he's won."

I can feel it inside me - he's sitting there, biding his time, knowing his victory is complete.

_“You were never my toy...” I murmur. “Whatever I thought that first morning... I must have sensed something significant had transpired between us the previous night. Do you think I would carve my initial into just anyone?” I shake my head sadly. “I may be mad, but ownership is not to be taken lightly. On some level I knew... how important it was to claim you... to let the marks of ownership cut deep into your flesh... to let my touch burn into your soul... I must have known we wouldn’t have much time. I must have known... I’d need to make you stay... with me... my Tiger...” I let my fingers move down your back, and up again over the healing wound. “Still there...” I growl. “And he will always know that...”_

_I look up at you, eyes blazing. “*You* will always know you’re mine. *Say it.*“_

You run your finger over the healing scar, of which I was so proud... proclaiming me to be yours, brashly, in a way no sane person could ever consider or accept - no other person would ever touch me.

"I am yours... always will be, Jim. _Yours_. Sebastian Moran belongs to Jim Moriarty, always."

I sigh, pick up my trousers, sit down on the bed, get out my fags and lighter, light a cigarette. Draw in the smoke, slowly let it leak out, hand it to you.

"I wonder - when we're - us, during the day - will we not want to be together? I mean - normally you don't remember you're Death – would I remember I'm Destruction? Wouldn't we just go - what the fuck, why am I not with you, and reconvene?"

_I watch you as you collect your trousers- *no, no clothes!*, I think, panicking. It makes me think of *what comes next*, and I need to feel for the next few hours you’re wholly mine..._

_You hand me your cigarette, and I take it, distracted by your question._

_“Destruction... is not like Death,” I say, scanning my mind - it feels like there’s an open channel to Death now to receive information. I feel a thrill snake through me over the *magnitude* of this - talk about a whole new level of the mind map. I have the knowledge of *an immortal* - the things I could do with this resource..._

_Only none of it matters without you. There’s the fucking rub, I think, my mouth tightening as I inhale smoke._

_“Death enjoys taking a back seat while his avatar is going about his day - he gets to have the experience of a human life. He’s intimately wrapped up in the nature of life, so he’s always been fascinated._

_Destruction is a more basic urge - *want to smash. We smash now!* He’s mainly fascinated by... taking things apart. Breaking them to bits. Watching things burn. You know this urge intimately... what he wants out of having you as his avatar, I have no idea. Now that you’re connected, you would have a better inkling of this than me or even Death...” I say sadly. “So he may not be satisfied with being in the background, he may want full possession... all the time...”_

_And then you’d be lost to me... god... Sebastian..._

_I hand you back your cigarette bleakly._

I inhale, feeling more and more despondent. I can feel that you’re right... he won’t be a hands-off possessor, letting me do my own thing during the day... and he definitely won’t let me walk back to you. He has more than a grudge against you... why?

I’m getting snapshots of feelings - big brother, always wins at the end of the day, always gets his way, favourite of Destiny and Dream...

well it certainly didn’t seem so when I saw them... but that’s a recent thing. They think you’ve changed too much since you took mortal form, have let him - Jim - influence you...

“Yes...” I sigh, handing you the cigarette. “He’s not planning to let me see you ever again.”

_I nod dully. “I’m not surprised... fucking brat.” I hold the cigarette to my lips, breathing in the toxic smoke. Mmm..._

_“So it won’t work if I throw a reunion brunch for the Endless in Death’s palace... just so I can stare at you mournfully while serving you sausages and a mimosa?” I smile despite myself. “It’s worth a try... yeah, I know he wouldn’t attend. I’m sorry you won’t get to see the palace... or my realm.” I stare out the window. “I remember it through my connection with Death. It seems terribly empty with just him...” my voice wavers, and I quickly take another drag off the cigarette._

"He might attend, just to gloat," I sigh. I don't think I like him much. How does it work, being possessed by some... thing you don't like? You and Death seemed pretty happy, but then Death seems also pretty hands-off. Though leaving you in the dark on what on earth was happening to you at night was a bit rude...

I sigh again. These beings don't much care about the humans they possess - they're using us for their own ends, much like we use animals... we don't ask if the horse wants to be ridden.

I scan what I know of Destruction now, carefully. I can feel him in there... can he see what I'm thinking? Is he even now influencing my will and thoughts? It doesn't feel like it - I feel like myself - but how would I know?

"So... you've been in this game much longer than I have. Can you think of any way that we can change this? Appeal? Is there some way you can claim me that trumps his claim? Is there anywhere we can run to?"

Even as I ask it, I know the answer...

_No. No. No._

_And no._

_"Not when the balance of the Endless is at risk... I thought my claim of the impossibility of Death falling in love would sway them... I thought Destiny would agree it was meant to be, written in the stars, and therefore trumped the claim of Destruction. She didn't."_

_I grow silent for a moment. "Strange she didn't say anything about it at all... you'd think she'd have something to say about such an event. Just that it didn't measure up against the claim of an avatar felt *disappointing*..." My brow furrows. "What the fuck! It was not an insignificant thing, and well she knows it! Death falls in love with a human? Risks unbalancing the universe for love? What does it take to show up on the radar of Destiny??" I grab my alarm clock, yank the cord out of the wall, and throw it hard against the wall. It breaks apart and falls to the ground in pieces, which is satisfying until I realize I've engaged with Destruction. Which makes me angrier, which makes me want to destroy more..._

_As the urge ricochets through me, it feels like he's *fucking taunting me*..._

_"Isn't it enough that you won, you fucker?" I snarl, and cover my face with my hands._

_Falls in love_...

Oh god Jim is in love with me...

It's not fucking _fair_! I've only just met him - only just fallen in love –

\- but there is no fucking Endless called Fairness now is there. Despair, yes, she exists... and must be lapping this up; the two of us tearing our hair out trying to find a solution, and failing miserably.

I turn to you.

"So this is our last night together...?"

It tears my heart open to say it; Despair's hook is inside there, pulling it open, letting the blood run freely through my chest, bleeding out...

_I nod numbly. I look down at the cigarette I’ve been smoking and barely registering._

_“Come here...” I say roughly._

_You move towards me without hesitation, and the trousers in your lap fall to the floor._

_I slide an arm around your waist as I hold the cigarette to my lips and inhale._

_“Something to remember me by...” I whisper. I pull my arm back, take your hand and kiss the palm - then press the cigarette to your flesh. My eyes close as I hear you scream - agony, ecstasy, it’s all the same..._

_“More?” I say gently, and do the same to your other palm. The sound you make is more of an anguished moan._

_“I know, honey...” I murmur. I slide the cigarette in between my lips, and hold open your palms to look at them - you’re shaking but trying to steady your breath._

_“Cigarette burn stigmata for my little brother... every time he sees them, he can think of me...” I say calmly, then I’m gathered up in your arms as my eyes begin to stream._


	14. Days Unending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Open my mouth and fill me with the countless lights of heaven. Bind the jaws of doomsayers and let me dance on their rotten teeth. I strain against the lies told about me as I strain against the bondage of earth. Open my mouth.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, Chapter XXIII. Translation Normandi Ellis.

Oh god - the pain - _your_ pain - it's terrible, but it's magnificent, because it's you, and I will carry it with me forever, like your other marks, reminding me, reminding him, that I'm yours, yours by choice and devotion, rather than possession...

I shiver as I hold you in my arms and you take the cigarette from your mouth, but you lean over and extinguish it into the ashtray.

I swallow.

"Wreck me," I whisper.

"What?" you ask, pulling back, looking at my face. Oh god, your eyes... wet with tears, the darkness so clearly visible just under the surface...

"Destroy me. Use me up. He's all about destruction, isn't he? Well let's see how he likes it happening to him... or to his avatar, before he can interfere." - I hope -

"You have one last night with my body. Do everything you think you would ever like to do to me..." I pull you close, breathing shallowly.

God - the things you did to me when you were _not_ trying to mess me up -

\- I might not survive you fully unleashed -

\- but isn't that kind of what I want?

(You wouldn't be able to. You couldn't kill your brother's avatar - even if you would be able to kill me.)

Well - fine. But no one said anything about getting his avatar to him in pristine state. Every scar, every ache, every mark of yours I can take with me I will cherish.

_“Oh god... don’t stay that to a psychopath... who is the embodiment of Death... on the worst day of his life...” I warn. “Not unless you mean it, Sebastian...”_

_Your eyes are blazing as you look at me._

_“Of course you do...” I murmur, pressing my palm lovingly against your cheek. “Jesus, you’re fucking perfect for me, aren’t you...”_

_And still Destruction would take you away from me..._

_My eyes narrow as I gaze into the stormy blue seas of yours. “I know you’re in there, little brother. Thank you for the gift you’ve given us. Here’s ours for you...” I mutter darkly._

_And I hurl my fist at your beloved mouth. The hard impact against your flesh and the immediate spray of blood are abruptly, beautifully violent..._

_You brush your knuckles against your lips, and slowly lick the back of your dripping hand... all while gazing back at me steadily. The hint of a conspiratorial smile plays upon your lips._

_It feels traitorous to my heart, but I smile back at you fiercely._

_I am Death._

_You are Destruction._

_And the inky blackness of night is our playground._

_“Let’s play, my sweet thing,” I whisper._

A fist flying in my direction.

Training shouting to move, to intercept.

Defiance. Letting the fist connect.

Pain.

Urge to pull back, defend. Ignored.

Your pain. Cherished.

I lick my blood off my hand, smile at you.

My Dark Lord. My Love.

Your smile fills the room, as my arms fall to my sides, my wounded palms facing you.

_"Yours."_

_“Mine,” I agree, and lunge towards you - my hands close over your throat and I squeeze. There’s something thrilling about doing this without restraints - knowing you could stop me, throw me off you, pummel me into a bloody pulp... and knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt, you won’t, *you won’t*, because you’re *mine* and you do whatever I say... for as long as I have you to myself, for these remaining few hours. And you will carry what I do to you this evening back to my brother, and he will see, and he will know you are mine in essence, regardless of any decree._

_I purr as my hands tighten around your throat. Your eyes widen, your body tenses, and you continue to gaze at me with adoration._

_“I love you too, Tiger,” I say roughly as I squeeze with greater force._

I tell my muscles to _stay calm_ , to let this happen, _no_ , I'm not dying, it's fine, and it's _Jim_...

I feel another source of resistance - not my training, or sense of self-preservation -

\- oh. It's _him_. He's not happy with this...

well tough shit mate. You were going to give us one last night together... no one said we couldn't indulge in some rough stuff.

I feel him turning away in disgust. Oh, kinky sex not your thing? A bit of choking not up your alley?

I see, destruction is what happens to _other_ people, is it? I grin as I feel him retreating, grumbling.

You say you love me... and tears start flowing unbidden. But I don't feel ashamed or self-conscious... we have gone so far beyond that.

I can't speak, can't say I love you... but you can see it in my eyes.

I'm starting to see black spots, floating in front of your face... careful, my darling, you don't want me to pass out just yet...

_I watch with fascination as you remain calm and unresisting even as your face turns red, your throat muscles begin to throb, and tension builds in your body at a rapid pace. When your eyes begin to glaze over, and your body is jerking, I loosen my grip and then release you._

_Your hands fly to your throat and you gasp for breath. You sit on the bed heavily, sucking back oxygen, trying not to hyperventilate... and I rub your back soothingly, making comforting sounds at you._

_God, without love this would have been a very different scenario... it would have been so difficult to hold back..._

_Instead I’m telling you I love you as I watch the effects of my violence slowly rise to your skin like shadowy blossoms. When your breathing has grown steady, you turn to look at me. I take your face in my hands and gaze into your bloodshot eyes before whispering “My beautiful, majestic Tiger” and leaning in to kiss you reverently._

Oh god -

I'm getting an oxygen high as breath returns, breathe rapidly; careful, not too fast -

And meanwhile you are caressing me and murmuring sweet words of love and devotion and it is so beautiful... so sweet...

I feel myself falling deeper and deeper under your spell; you're holding me in the palm of your hand, I'd let you do _anything_ –

and knowing you, you could indeed do _anything_.

Destruction has buggered off in disgust, leaving us to our sick games. I feel him still, but as a remote presence, wanting nothing to do with what's happening. That suits me fine...

I look at you. I don't think I can speak yet - but you take my face, whisper your love and appreciation of me, kiss me, and I melt into the kiss, so deep and meaningful, so full of everything that we would say if we would have a lifetime to say it...

_I look into your eyes, and I don’t feel even a hint of my younger brother. I sigh with relief and lean my forehead against yours. “Has he gone?” I murmur._

_You nod, and I revel in the pleasure of your body pressed and moving against mine, even just our foreheads. God... I could so easily slip into a place of deepening tenderness, and I think that would rip us both to *shreds*._

_*Don’t be stupid, Jimmy and - don’t be so fucking selfish. Sebastian needs you to be strong,* I think firmly._

_I move away, wincing inwardly at the loss of contact._

_“Move to face the headboard. On your knees.” I order._

I can feel you relax as you hear that your brother has retreated for now. Not completely left, of course - but at least he’s leaving us alone for a bit.

And you hold me, and we sit together, conscious of every spot where your body touches mine, the heat from our skin, the sweet soft breeze of our breath...

I nearly audibly whine as you pull away. No - I need to touch you, need to feel you, as long as I can...

But there's an order, and yes, I am following it, not even thinking before I move. I sit up on my knees and take hold of the headboard.

What will you do?

And will you hold me afterwards, stroking me, saying that you love me?

_I look at your muscular back, your head hanging forward._

_*Fuck*... could you be any more beautiful, my Tiger?_

_Yes... I could paint you red._

_Because I want to, and you asked me to, asked me to *wreck* you; tapped into the slick, gleaming darkness that has bubbled up from my centre since I was a young boy. And you have looked into my depths, and you are not horrified or afraid - you *crave* it, *long for it*..._

_*By all the gods, Destruction - did you know what it would do to me to lose Sebastian, or are you just being your usual obnoxious, obstinate self? Because this will determine how I make you pay for what you’ve done. And you will pay - even if it takes me the entire lifespan of this universe to figure out a way... and if it takes us to the brink of non-existence and then tips us over the edge, I will meet this end gladly.*_

_I blink and realize you’re waiting, still and stoic and silent... noiselessly, I glide towards you, and move your wrist into position, buckle a restraint over it. Then take the other wrist and repeat. I lean over your shoulder and rub my face against yours like a cat. I rest my head against yours for the briefest moment before moving back, then lightly trailing my fingers over your shoulders... and then clawing downwards. Red pools in the grooves left by my nails._

_“He’s going to fucking hate looking back on this,” I say, my voice vibrating with fury. “So let’s make it a night that he’ll hate for eternity...”_

_I step away from the bed and stalk to my cupboard for my most vicious whip._

…

I'm breathing heavily.

My entire body is pain.

I'm no stranger to pain; and in a way, this is easy pain. I don't need to resist it; I don't need to stay alert to see where the next attack is coming from, or to listen if the torturers are saying anything that might be of use.

I don't need to save myself for an escape.

You can use me up, if you want.

So I can just relax into the pain, until my entire being is pain, with a fiery core of my heart burning for you.

…

I can see blood and tears dripping onto the sheets. My back, arse, and thighs feel like they are in tatters. Your whip is cutting into my calves now, as you're working your way down my body systematically.

I don't care about the tears. We are beyond caring about tears. We can spill all the tears we want - there's no one we need to prove ourselves to.

…

Your whip has moved to the soles of my feet. I would howl if I could, but when I try to make a noise it hurts my throat and causes a coughing fit. Resentfully, I look at the restraints tying me to the headboard. I wish you hadn't done that - that you'd let me prove that you don't need restraints to hold me. I will sit still and let you destroy me...

_Breathing raggedly, I look at the beautiful mess/terrifying painting I’ve made of the back plane of your body..._

_angry lashes, loving cuts..._

_Blood dripping, tears splashing..._

_If I kept going, your flesh would be hanging in tatters..._

_It’s a tempting thought for one shining moment - but that is not how I want our final hours to be spent. I’m not Destruction… I’m a *sadist*. I love cruelty, pain, and oh yes, *death*... that blood-red rose shedding its petals, that final sweet kiss..._

_But since meeting you, I have also come to love sensual pleasure - Desire’s influence through you, perhaps? Who knows... But I don’t want to get so carried away with wrecking you that I deny myself my final moments of pleasure._

_I let the whip drop to the floor. I move towards you, and release your restraints. My lips press against one of the lash marks - then I lick along a rivulet of blood, making you shiver and moan._

_“Turn around, Sebastian...” I say softly. “Rest for a moment...”_

_You turn, looking dazed... and carefully sit on the bed._

_“So powerful, so strong...” I say in a low purr, giving you hypnotic, feline Jim. I climb onto your lap, and slip my arms around you. My head rests against your shoulder, and I close my eyes. Not for too long... just a moment of rest with my Tiger..._

I don't quite realize that the whipping has stopped until I see your hand untying me, feel your lips on my back, your tongue on a lash, burning...

Then your voice, cutting through the noise in my head, sweet words of comfort, inviting me to rest... yes... rest would be good... a moment to catch my breath. Will you hold me?

The sheets scorch against my skin, but it's good to relax for a moment, let my arms hang down, release my hands that have been clasping the headboard. And there you are, breathing your appreciation for me, holding me... resting your head against me...

I fold my arms around you, put my cheek against yours, breathe in your scent, soft and slightly sweaty and so Jim...

I wish I could stay like this forever...

_God, I’m so tired... I could totally fall asleep, resting against your strong, warm body. But then I’d just end up in Morphy’s realm again, and *no thank you*, and I don’t want to waste a single moment away from you._

_“I really thought I could do it, Sebastian...” I say in a daze. “I’ve always been able to bend the world to my will! I never *failed* at something before...” Well... not for a very long time._

_“But then... I’ve never had to face off against bloody immortal forces of nature...” I mutter and swipe at my tears angrily. “Still, darling - you’d think *being one* would have worked out in my favour... I wonder if there’s a formal complaint process - or contract killers for immortals, there’s an untapped market... ” I’m desperately trying to be as Moriarty as I can, all suave irreverence and savage humour. I don’t think it will do either of us any good to be a sobbing, broken shell of my former self - plenty of time for that - after..._

_Ignoring the trembling of my muscles, I languorously kiss your neck._

_“Still some more wrecking to do...” I murmur, trailing a finger over your chest and nipple, feeling you shiver. “Do you need anything, Tiger? A drink? A cigarette?”_

_*Hemlock?* I think, closing my eyes tightly._

“Yes... please...”

My voice croaks.

“I’d love a beer... and a cigarette...”

You kiss my forehead, get up off the bed, frown - “Don’t move.”

You walk to the linen cupboard, get out a sheet, partially unfold it, walk out of the bedroom. I hear water running in the bathroom, then you enter with the sheet dripping wet. You pull up a pillow against the headboard, put the sheet over it.

“Here...” you say, taking my hand. “Can you lean against that? Is that not too painful?”

I lean back carefully, the wet sheet soothing against my burning back. I let myself sink against the pillow.

“That’s lovely... thank you,” I smile at you. I feel my lip split open at that, but the pain is minor. You kiss me, your mouth coming away with my blood, which you lick off your lips.

“My beautiful strong Tiger...” you whisper, stroking my temple, looking at me with your eyes so large and dark.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

I lean my head against the headboard. My body aches, but it’s a relief, means I don’t have to think about my heart, which is bleeding out.

I’m 37... for 22 years I’ve been convinced I would never love again... and then I met you and my heart burst open with adoration, passion, love... only to have it taken away forever after three days??

Despair’s hook cuts, twists, pulls...

You enter with a glass of beer and a glass of whisky, hand them to me, carefully, like you’re not sure if I’ll be able to hold them. I smile my thanks and take a sip of beer - blissful cold liquid... I take another large draught, then knock back the whisky.

“Thank you,” I smile.

_I observe you closely. Do you want me to keep going, or...?_

_I believe so... but not quite yet._

_I climb onto the bed next to you, and lean against the headboard. My head falls back and I exhale slowly._

_“We’ve been dealt a terrible hand, Sebbie... lord knows this is not my first time, and I can tell it’s not yours... but-“ I draw a shaky breath. “...as hellish as the landscapes of my childhood and adolescence were... at least I knew one day I’d grow up. I knew even back then I’d become a creature of utter darkness... more entity than man. And *that* happened even before Death came calling...” I consider this for a moment, then turn my head to look at you._

_“This time... there’s nothing to *strive* for, no hell to try and escape from, that fashions me into a force the world has never seen... there’s just... Love, *eternal fucking love* and being *denied* it at the same time...” I feel my eyes glinting dangerously. “And I can’t even strike out at the one I hate, because-“ my hand reaches out and touches your cheek. “He’ll be wearing your *face*!!”_

_I feel a tremor of fury work through me again. Fuck. So much rage..._

_“It’s the world that will end up paying...” I say darkly, as I continue to stroke your cheek. “Nothing to be done about that...”_

You light a cigarette, hand it to me. I take a deep draught.

There are things. Things that need to be said.

They may be hurtful. But I need you to know.

"Jim... I've never... I was in love once, as a teenager." I shudder. It hurts to speak about it. Still.

"It ended... badly. I said never again, and I kept that promise, until - until I met you. I was just - everything I thought I knew was blown away. _You_ blew my mind. Everything about you... day-you as well as night-you.

Thank you. Thank you for - reviving me. Which is probably not something Death does as a rule. These three days and nights with you were the best I ever had."

I hand the cigarette to you.

_I listen to this, and there’s a twinge in my heart as I hear you talking about... *someone else*..._

_What the fuck, Sebastian?_

_*Why are you telling me about someone else??*_

_I focus on keeping my features neutral. It’s fine, it’s fine, you were...15. It ended badly, and you were just hormonal teenagers, it’s not like you would have got *married*..._

_Huh? That’s a strange leap to make... for me, anyway._

_You gesture at the cigarette that I’ve been ignoring. I take it in a daze._

_“Well, I have loved no one in my life except for my brother and mam...” (both of whom died because of me, but this is not the time to go into that... and I guess it never will be, I think with a wince.)_

_“That ended badly, too. Ended up with a psychopath with a heart hidden away, miles underground in a bunker. I didn’t really think it *existed* anymore.. thought it might be a pile of dust by now... a black stain on the ground, bits of scattered onyx all around... but I was wrong - I guess you revived me too...” I look at you through narrowed eyes. “And it was *not* welcome, I’ll tell you that. What’s done is done... But now it *fucking hurts*, Sebastian!! So what was the bloody point of it all??” Tears squeeze out of my eyes, and I release a breathy sob._

_“I’m sorry. I’m not used to this - ‘having a heart’ thing.” Tearfully, furiously I put the cigarette to my lips and inhale deeply. I stare at the wall for a long moment, breathing shakily, smoking with trembling fingers. “I don’t think I can do this, Sebbie...” I whisper. “How - can I have - a heart - and be without the *one thing* I care about??”_

Such pain when you mention your brother and mother...

... and that is what made you a psychopath?

And I revived you? Made you discover you had a heart?

Oh _god_ –

_It fucking hurts Sebastian..._

_Do something_ , soldier - protect him -

He's _crying_ -

My hands are curled into fists and my throat aches, and I don't know what to do; how to make this better for you, and that hurts more than anything.

We should have just continued with the torture. It was less painful.

"You may find something else you care about," I say lamely, knowing it's nonsense, at least it is for me, and I know it is for you. This is - something magical, something unique, and neither of us is going to find anything like it ever again.

"Or - enjoy being Death again. I may - enjoy blowing things up."

I stop talking, because my words sound hollow as shit.

_I stare at you incredulously. I know you’re trying, Sebastian... but there’s no *making me feel better*... certainly not by telling me I could find something else._

_“*Someone* else, you mean?” I snap. “I love you darling, but don’t be stupid. You know as well as I do - something like *this* only happens once in a lifetime for a man like me. Men like us...” I trail my fingers along the beautiful skin of your arms and your hand. I clasp your hand, bringing it closer to my face and staring at your perfect fingers - scarred and calloused, the fingers of a sniper and a soldier._

_“I need you with me, Sebastian - in some way. I can’t just go off without you... forever,” my voice cracks, and I hold your hand to my cheek._

_“It can’t just be like... this never happened,” I say desperately, and press your knuckles to my lips. I stare at your hand and back at you._

_“It can’t be... so *it won’t be*...” I say, looking at you intently. “If I’m going to rule Death alone, and you’re going to head off and be Destruction... Bind your soul to mine. Marry me. Let us have *this* to carry with us... tonight, and for always...”_

I stare at you.

You're mad.

"... marry - you? What - how - you're going to kidnap a priest and have him say some words? What - oh god I would love nothing better, but - what would it mean? How would it work? If you gave me a ring, Destruction would just throw it away. I _am_ yours, I have sworn it - what would a ceremony do?"

Oh god I'm ruining this –

"I mean - Yes! Yes I want to marry you! I really do - but how?"

_I smile faintly at your protests about the logistics of my mad idea. Always the man of action..._

_Carefully I climb onto your lap, making sure not to press your raw back against the headboard. I slide my hands through your hair and link them behind your neck._

_"*Priest*? Whatever for, Sebastian - to say churchy things that neither of us believe in? You can have a licence from the internet to marry someone, too - would a man of the cloth or a random person of internet certification be meaningful to you? What you see before you is the highest authority in all the land... in all the *world*... because no one leaves this life without my touch. And you are one of mine... and now you are Endless too, tragic though that is...” my eyes close for a moment, then I look at you intently. "My point is... there is no one who outranks us. We take this step ourselves... and as for the little problem of the ring, let me take care of that... if this is what you truly want. Do you, Tiger?" I hesitate as I gaze at you._

_Or is this too mad for you?_

You're right - why would _you_ need anyone else to officiate you binding yourself to anyone?

But - if we do this, and then are separated -

\- well we'll be separated _anyway_ -

"Yes -" I say, breathless. "God, yes. Fuck everything. This is my last night - I will never be _me_ after this, because if I were me I'd run to you. So - yes, as my last act on this earth, I want to marry you."

_With your words, my heart lifts - the sun breaks through the dark clouds,... the sky is bright and blue as your eyes... and we both stare at each other, grinning like love-drunk fools._

_“Well, then... Tiger... *my betrothed*...” I say, beaming. “There is just the little matter of the rings to arrange...” I glance at the time, and roll off you. “You rest here a moment...” I murmur, and lean in to kiss you searchingly._

_You gaze at me in adoration and turmoil as I sweep out of the room._

_I know exactly what you’re feeling, Tiger... and maybe this will make everything that much harder, but all I know is I can’t not do this... if it’s going to break and ruin both of us, then - at least we’ll have this union, always._

_In my office, I look up some contact information, then make a quick call. Arrangements are made, exorbitant payment is sent for immediate service, and I hang up with satisfaction. I lean back in my office chair - my head falls back, and I push at the floor with my foot, to make the chair spin. As I slowly move around in a circle, I close my eyes. Only a few hours to go - and it will take everything in me to stay strong for both of us. And I don’t want to waste a single moment. I hop from the still-moving chair, and shove it against the wall. Then I head downstairs to chill champagne, and place another order for *immediate* catering - just a simple chocolate cake and some fancy-ish nibbles - we may not have an appetite to eat anything, but I want it to feel celebratory - not funereal._

_A moment later, arrangements are complete and I’m returning to you. As I move up the stairs, I feel aflutter with excitement to see you again._

_*Betrothed*, I think to myself. My heart glows, and I enter the room._

I move a bit when you are gone - everything aches, but nothing's damaged too badly. Nothing that won't heal. I hope the M recovers and stays proud and clear.

When you come back, you grin. "Everything will be here in half an hour, Tiger - shall we clean up a bit before the ceremony?"

"Good idea," I wince as I remove myself from the damp sheet. It's soaked in blood.

We head to the bathroom, where you start up the shower, and carefully regulate the water, spray it on my arm. "Here - is that too warm?"

"A bit," I reply, and you lower the temperature, then start very gently washing my torn back.

_When I’ve finished cleaning you up, we kiss sweetly under the stream of water. I take some time to dress your wounds, murmuring softly to you. When I’m finished, I inspect your bandaged back._

_“I had planned to do more damage... I didn’t even get to your front, Tiger! I wonder if this is the first time a hardcore BDSM session was pre-empted by an impromptu wedding...”_

_You chuckle. “I would think so...”_

_“Mmm. It does seem likely. Now let’s put you in a suit. I’m *joking*, darling... but can you manage trousers?”_

_You shrug, seeming to know it will hurt but not being too concerned. My stoic, beautiful soldier... We both put on trousers, and then a text later, I’m letting in the caterer to cover the island counter with roses and our wedding feast of nibbles and chocolate cake._

_When I escort them out, the other guest arrives. I bring him into the living room to set up, then call you down._

_When you walk gingerly into the room, you stare at the bald, tattooed man bent over his supplies on the coffee table._

_“Sebastian, this is Angus. He’s a world-renowned artist, and he’ll be supplying our rings.” Angus smiles politely._

_“We could go with white ink and some shading, if we wanted to be subtle. I’m leaning towards black, which is *ever* so slightly more brazen... What would *you* prefer, Tiger?” A feral smile spreads across my face. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest at your look of worshipful awe._

_Oh_...

Oh you devious beautiful wonderful genius.

Destruction can't get rid of a tattoo - well, he could get laser treatment, but it will leave scars - he will always know it's there.

I grin at you broadly.

"God I love you."

We choose a black design - of course. Could it be any other colour? And fuck yeah, I want to be _brazen_ about it.

You get out champagne and pour us both a glass, promise Angus one _after_ he's done a good job. Angus laughs, showing his gold teeth. "Don't worry darlings, I can tattoo with my eyes closed and three sheets to the wind - but I'm more than happy to have a glass afterwards.

It's a great idea to have the rings tattooed - it's so much more permanent than a metal ring - and you can't lose it.

Now, who goes first?"

I nod at you, and feed you chocolate cake as Angus tattoos an intricate pattern on you. I look closely - I thought they were vines, but -

"Tiger stripes?" I ask, choking up.

"Of course..." you smile, raise the hand holding the champagne glass, stroke my cheek.

Oh god - you're so perfect, so sweet, so lovely, so brilliant - and I'm getting married to you, only to lose you at the start of the wedding night -

I take a gulp from my drink, swallow hard.

_I can’t take my eyes off my tiger-striped wedding ring... Jesus, it’s fucking beautiful._

_“You’re a true artist, Angus,” I say admiringly, as he starts on your tattoo. On the screen my ring had looked sharp and stylized, on skin it actually looks like a band of *fur*. I’m itching to rub my finger over it. Instead I look up._

_You appear as relaxed as if you were having a tropical drink on a beach - only the flashes of sorrow in your eyes and the tension around your mouth tell me the truth. You are after all preparing to wed the man you love before leaving him forever..._

_*No fecking TEARS*, I tell myself furiously as my eyes begin to sting. I refill our glasses, and feed you a bite of cake, before sensually licking chocolate from your fork._

_Your eyes are now fully on me and blazing with desire. I sip my champagne like an odalisque, my tongue darting out to lick the rim of the flute. Well, if our wedding night is only going to be a couple of hours before we have to part forever, we may as well go for gold._

_I lean in to look at your tattoo - it’s the silhouette of a magpie overset above a heart made of bones - the heart is elongated along the sides to form the ring that encircles your finger._

_“Ohh, Tiger...” I breathe... “It’s gorgeous...”_

It's an amazing piece of work. Marvellously intricate, no more than half an inch wide. Angus covers both with vaseline and cling film.

"I'd say you've definitely earned a glass of champagne, but -"

Angus laughs out loud. "I can see that three's a crowd, here. I'll have a beer at home to your good health and long happiness together!"

You escort him out, walk back in, your eyes blazing.

"Now..." you say, lifting my left hand with the tattoo to your lips, kissing the burn in the palm, "repeat after me..."

"I, Sebastian Moran..."

_"I, Sebastian Moran..." you echo, staring at me so intently._

_I feel like I'm drowning in your eyes, and almost trip over my next words, which I never could have imagined saying..._

_"Take you, James Moriarty, for my husband..."_

_*Breathe, Jimmy...*_

_"Take you, James Moriarty, for my husband..."_

_Your hand squeezes mine firmly._

_Oh god, the remaining vows don't even work... we won't be doing any having or holding in this marriage, and..._

_*until Death do us part?*_

_"To remain devoted in my heart and soul to you, my true mate and my true love - no matter what we face..."_

_Your breath catches in your throat._

_"To remain devoted in my heart and soul to you, my true mate and my true love - no matter what we face..."_

_"And if there is a way to defeat our adversaries and destroy the obstacles that would keep us apart, I will not hesitate - I will throw myself into the breach, and do what needs to be done - for you, my Love."_

_Your hand tightens on my mine, and my heart thrills when I hear the next words come out in a growl._

_"And if there is a way to defeat our adversaries and destroy the obstacles that would keep us apart, I will not hesitate - I will throw myself into the breach, and do what needs *to be fucking done* - for you, my Love."_

_My eyes are wet. I don't know when that happened. I focus all of my energy on keeping my voice steady and strong._

_"And I will love you, cherish you and honour you until the end of time."_

"And I will love you, cherish you, and honour you until the... end of... time..."

My throat hurt enough without tightening like this.

I look at you.

My turn.

Oh god, I can't think of words to do this justice -

Just be yourself, Sebastian. He wants to marry _you_ , not some erudite wordsmith.

I gulp down my champagne, take your left hand, look up close at what's visible of the tiger stripes through the cling film.

"Please repeat after me... I, James Moriarty..."

Your eyes are dark as you repeat: "I, James Moriarty..."

"Take you, Sebastian Moran, to be my husband..."

_Oh god -_

"Take you, Sebastian Moran, to be my husband..."

_OH GOD_

"To have and to hold, to love and to cherish, as much as we can..."

"To have and to hold, to love and to cherish, as much as we can..."

"To always hold in my heart and soul, to always remain connected, regardless of... distance and time..."

"To always hold in my heart and soul, to always remain connected, regardless of distance and time..."

I don't know what else to say.

"By the power invested in me by the supreme force in this universe," I nod at you, "I now declare us wedded.

You may kiss your husband..."

_The words spill from your lips and I stare at you, stunned._

_We did it - we’re married._

_There’s just this little bit left to the ceremony... he’s *waiting* for you, Jimmy..._

_Kiss your Tiger..._

_Your *husband*..._

_I slide my arms around your neck, and lift my face up to yours. You lean down towards me, and our lips meet -_

_And we kiss with devastating sweetness and longing, that builds as our lips move against each other - softly at first... and then with building hunger..._

_we break apart in shock, our eyes locked._

_“We did it...” I murmur. “And I feel *different*. I feel married to you, my Tiger...”_

_Like Death really was officiating... giving his blessing to our union, however star-crossed..._

_I clasp your hand against my cheek, and lightly kiss your tattooed ring. “Forever mine...” I whisper._

"Forever... till death do us part - and I don't think he ever would do such a thing," I smile.

You are so close and you're right, it _does_ feel different. I've been feeling madly attracted to you since the beginning - well, who wouldn't - but now I feel - not just literally close. You're - comfortable to be with. Which is absolutely insane, considering what you've been doing with me the past couple of days, but I trust you completely.

There's nothing you could do to me that I wouldn't let you. And - it feels right. Proper. We should be together.

Which makes the knowledge that we only have a few more hours so _unbearabl_ e... it's _so unfair._ But then life isn't fair, is it, Sebbie... Death is, but you're taken away from him.

You pour the last of the champagne in our glasses, hand me one, clink yours against mine. "To us," I smile. "To us, Tiger," you reply, and we both drink.

_We finish our champagne, simmering behind our glasses._

_“Now I’ve certainly never been married and I don’t as a rule frequent weddings... is there anything left to do to seal the deal...?” I say with a puzzled expression. “Was it signing the register? No... not that... Procession line? No pesky guests to worry about... And we already cut the cake... is anything coming to mind, Sebbie?” I say, scratching my head._

I grin.

"Well, I believe in England a marriage is only official after it's been consummated... now, you do strike me as a law-abiding citizen above all else..."

Your eyes are large and dark as you look at me.

"And besides..." I whisper, "I'm not nearly wrecked..."

_You want more, Tiger? I smile slowly._

_“Oh? You want me to send my husband to him wrecked and bloody?” I say in a rough purr._

_Perfect - because if our last evening before you’re taken away is tender and beautiful, then... I’m not sure I’ll make it through this with any of my sanity intact - and that’s saying *a lot* considering my starting point._

_Can the Endless go fully mad? Well, looked what happened to Delirium..._

_What would happen if Death went mad?_

_I find myself not giving a flying fuck about the future for humanity *or* the Endless._

_I’m a mastermind, a psychopath, and an avatar of the greatest force in the universe, after all... it’s bound to go to one’s majestic head..._

_Stop getting distracted, Jimmy. Time to give your husband what he asked for._

_I put my champagne glass down, go to the fridge, and pull out another chilled bottle. I extend my hand to you._

_“Come with me, Tiger...” I order, and you immediately stand and put your hand in mine._

_I head to the staircase with you trailing behind me - feeling like an Aztec priest mounting the steps of a pyramid, leading his willing sacrifice to the blood-stained altar. Is this a memory of Death, I wonder idly - did he hover in the wings of his realm, waiting eagerly for the red, red heart to be cut out of a sacrificial body, still beating...?_

_I feel an ancient presence stirring._

_*Ohh, you have no idea... what’s it like to be worshipped so...* a silky whisper unspools through me, and I shiver._

_I glance back at you, staring up at me so adoringly._

_I think I’m beginning to understand, I think mournfully._

_There’s a pause, and I think for a moment that he’s gone._

_*Yes... I suppose if anyone would...* he murmurs._

_Isn’t there anything you can do? I beg him. PLEASE..._

_Hesitation. Regret. *Grief.*_

_Somehow I know - he’s not supposed to intervene, he is bound to keep to the compact of the Endless..._

_There’s a cracked, shuddering sigh._

_*Death becomes him*, he whispers, and then fades away in a great sweep of darkness._

_And I reach the top of the stairs, blinking back tears, and lead you into the bedroom without looking back._

_“Lie on the bed, Tiger...” I order, and leave the champagne on the bedside table. Then I go to the cupboard to wipe my eyes and collect myself before bringing out a sharp knife._

…

My entire body is lava. Everything hurts, burns. My heart most of all.

My face is wet from tears and some blood, my limbs are weak. Carefully, I push myself upright. Three ribs broken, but I can still breathe. My right eye is swelling shut, my left one is looking at you, covered in blood, sweat, tears, and semen.

You've fallen asleep. It must be after midnight.

We certainly made the hours count.

I carefully lever myself out of bed, trying to avoid the shards of broken champagne bottle. The sole of my right foot has been cut open from the heel to the toe, and it hurts to walk on it, but it's only a few steps to my holdall. I fall to my knees, grimace, zip it open, take out my Beretta, chamber a round, slide off the safety, push it into my mouth, squeeze the trigger.

At the very last moment I sense Destruction's realization, panic, feel him jump up from where he was hiding in disgust.

_Too late, mate._

_BANG_

A more than deafening noise, a pain more intense than anything I've ever felt, then an abrupt stop.

The gun falls to the ground, in my hand.


	15. Wolves are Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember receiving a charm, who gave it and where, how the spell held me fast as nets, quicker than greyhounds, fleeter than light. I remember the place in every man. Now bring me a boat in the wind, strong in the wind, fast in the wind. Sail it over this lake of fire, quicker than greyhounds, fleeter than light.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, Chapter XXIV. Translation Normandi Ellis.

_I’m aware on some level that I’m dreaming... that my mind is processing everything that just happened... after all it’s not every day that I marry the love of my life... and then beat him... cut him... and break him..._

_Gods help me, it was harder than I anticipated._

_But you’re my strength, Sebastian... egging me on when my hunger for pain and suffering had flagged..._

_It seemed like everything I did gave you something you needed - your fury at Destruction demanded it._

_Every slice through your flesh with my favourite knife..._

_with jagged shards of the champagne bottle..._

_Every vicious punch to your torso, and your beloved face..._

_How could I deny you that?_

_When your demands for *more* were a reminder that I was about to lose you... that when you left, you’d be gone *for good*..._

_And once again, the rage would rise up in me like a venomous black serpent and I would strike.. and strike... and strike..._

_releasing so much blood..._

_so many howls of pain..._

_so many tears..._

_Now that I’m dreaming it, it’s easier to focus on your responses, on the wild, savage beauty of our final moments together..._

_Because this is all I’ll be left with when you’re gone..._

_our utterly romantic ceremony..._

_and our ferocious wedding night..._

_I watch myself as I punch your ribs until they crack._

_you’re watching me as I approach - one eye swollen shut, one crimson._

_*Subconjunctival haemorrhage*... nice touch, I think in a daze._

_*You’re in shock...* a voice of darkest shadows tells me helpfully._

_*I’m dreaming*, I respond, watching in fascination as my other self paces in the bedroom like a wild animal, and you breathe raggedly, and shout at me for more..._

_*And you elected to fall asleep instead of saying goodbye?* the shadows slide over me soothingly. *I know you’re partial to an Irish exit, but surely under the circumstances...*_

_*Under the circumstances...* I echo dully. *Nothing matters anymore.*_

_*drip*_

_*drip*_

_*drip*_

_I look down and see blood dripping from my closed fist towards the floor._

_I look up and see you standing in the middle of the room, blood dripping from your temple, a gun to your head._

_*What?*_

_NO._

_*NO.*_

_I leap towards you to stop you..._

_and your lips part, and mouth at me *Jim*._

_*BANG*._

_I awake with a start. I look around wildly and see you on the floor... bleeding... with a gun in your hand..._

_oh -_

_fuck -_

_“Oh, baby... no...” I say in a feather-soft voice._

_In my rush from the bed, I fall hard to the floor and crawl towards you in a mad panic._

_When I reach you, I gather you in my arms, and gaze at you, stunned._

_“Why did you- WHY?” I demand, my voice raw and hoarse._

Oh Jim - oh Jim I'm sorry - don't cry -

"I don't want to be someone else…" I say. "I could never be _me_ and stay away from you. I figured - I'd rather have ten more minutes with you, than eternity as someone I'm not."

You look up at me, your eyes, streaming, looking so lost, so helpless - oh god Jim -

No - not Jim.

The other one.

The one I was looking for when I shot myself.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you..." I lean down, stroke your tear-stained face.

_But now - you won’t be in the world anymore!! I want to scream._

_At least I would have known you were *out there* -_

_*Miserable and lost without you*, the shadowy voice whispers._

_*But there may have been a chance*, I protest. *We could have figured something out!!*_

_*Unlikely. Did you really want to sentence the one you love to eternity in pain?* the voice soothes._

_*What about me and my eternity in pain??* I scream in my mind, then turn my attention back to you. Time is running out, Jimmy. Focus on your Tiger..._

_“Oh god... I was so selfish to fall asleep... I just couldn’t *face it*, my darling... I couldn’t face Destruction taking you over in front of me, looking at me smugly like all this meant -“ I inhale sharply. “-*nothing*-“ I howl, and break into sobs that rack my body. “If I had just left you to Destruction in the first place, none of this would have - and we wouldn’t have - I’m sorry, Sebastian... I’m so sorry...”_

"Jim..."

I can still call you Jim, right? You look like Jim...

I squat down next to you, lean in, pull you into my arms. I am vaguely aware that my ribs don't hurt any more.

"I wouldn't have been half the person I am - was... I would just have been a mindless destruction machine. Meeting you - made me human. Made me alive. Three days with you were better than a full life without you…"

I stroke your hair, hold your sobbing body, tears streaming over my own face.

Not long now... You'll take me to... wherever I'll be going.

Whatever I believe in, you said... so yeah, it's going to be oblivion.

Which is good, I guess... I wouldn't want to end up in some heaven where I'd live all eternity without you.

"You did everything right, my love... you made my life worth living."

_The things you’re saying... so beautiful..._

_why have I been given this only to lose it?_

_My heart is being ripped out from my chest, and I’m in such a surreal state... I’m Jim, and I’m Death - I’ve never been conscious of both before._

_I still feel like myself, but I sense dark mysteries within, and huge reservoirs of power - and I am just as madly in love with the man holding me - my husband, my beloved, who I now have to escort into oblivion..._

_Dimly, I hear you say I did everything right. I laugh at this as I’m crying, and end up inhaling saliva and then having a coughing fit. You lean in looking concerned and stroke my face reassuringly._

_“The most potent force in the universe isn’t used to tears,” I mutter, sniffling. “And it’s hardly in a psychopath’s repertoire, either. And - why are you comforting *me*, Tiger?? I - kn-know I’m supposed to take you away, but all I want to do is curl up with you - forever...” At the thought of this moment ending, my body begins to shake._

_Not yet, *not yet*-_

_*Please-*_

_“That’s not so unreasonable, is it, my love?” I say, my voice cracking. “Is it really s-so much to ask...?”_

\- how would _I_ know?

How do you comfort Death after you've shot yourself??

"It isn't, my love..." I whisper, still stroking you, holding you. "I would love nothing more. If we can... let's curl up together and forget all about the world outside of here..."

I pull your sweet, small, sobbing body close.

Oh my darling... I am so sorry... I'll soon be leaving you, leaving you all alone, to face eternity without me. I saved myself that fate, but I couldn't save you, my love, my husband...

I wish I could have... I'd have given anything...

An immense _crash_ shakes the building.

"THANATOS!!!" a voice roars from below.

_It feels so good to be in your strong arms, being comforted... I can almost forget what’s looming before us, mere moments away..._

_our time together is disappearing so quickly, sands draining through the hourglass..._

_My stomach bottoms out at the thought..._

_My shaking hands grip you._

_Stop this, Jimmy... *stop your crying...*_

_I grit my teeth as I try to hold back the weeping... it doesn’t work._

_But then -_

_A devastating crash... a loud thundering voice..._

_We look at each other. I take a breath, and my eyes stop streaming._

_“My baby brother wishes us to know he’s *not happy*...” I say, my voice flinty. My jaw clenches. “He should be a little more mindful of *my* unhappiness...” I growl._

_“Jim-“ you say urgently, hands grasping me._

_I look down at your hands._

_“Wait- how am I feeling you...?” I say slowly._

_There’s another crash, and the room shakes. A picture falls from the wall and smashes to the floor._

_“What?” you ask, looking confused and desperate. “Because you’re Death? He’s almost here!”_

_“Yes... and spirits don’t feel like this... it’s like, they’re made of light - there’s a sense of touch, substance - but subtle... etheric...” I run my hands down your arms in fascination. “This is more like-“_

_There’s a booming laugh, and then a shout that reverberates through my bones. “*I would have made him immortal, brother...*”_

_My eyes widen._

_*Endless.*_

_“Oh. Sebastian.” I whisper, and hold your face in my hands and you stare back at me in anguish._

_I press my lips to yours. And I feel the wings of Death envelop us in a swirl of dark billowing mist._

_Remember, Death whispers in my mind._

_I open my eyes and see your panicked face looking back at me - your eyes seem to be pleading with me for more time, for understanding, for forgiveness -_

_“There’s nothing to forgive, my love...” I murmur._

_I rest my head against your shoulder._

_“Death becomes you...” I whisper._

_And as I feel us swallowed up by the dark mists, I hear you whisper my name like a prayer._

The noise of Destruction is coming closer as he ravages his way up towards us. What exactly does he plan to do when he gets here?

I'm not sure if he knows himself - but I'm also not sure I want to find out. Couldn't he just let us have these final minutes together?!

You kiss me, our last kiss, and it tears me apart, I almost moan at the burning agony in my heart, and then you pull back, just before he reaches us, and I look at you, lost, bewildered - trying to convey everything I want to say in that look, telling you I love you, you're the only man I've ever loved, it was all worth it, I'm so, so sorry...

You can read all that, because you lean against me, tell me there's nothing to forgive... my sweet, my love...

I whisper your name - "Jim-"

And I feel Death's wings enfold me.

So this is it...

_I’ve never transported a soul before, not consciously... but Death is there guiding me... and I just seem to know what to do._

_For what seems an infinite moment, there is just the mist, enfolding us like a dark cocoon... a cosmic womb..._

_You’re clinging to me, and I want to whisper reassuringly, but I can’t seem to open my mouth - because in this in-between place, I’m dissolving, beyond human form..._

_And I finally know what it means to be Endless... Death..._

_blackness unfolding like the cosmos, the space in between stars... holding everything..._

_holding you safe..._

_and then..._

_I’m taking form again, pouring into my Jim-shape. We alight on the ground, and I hold you in my wings for another moment. Then those too retract..._

_I want you to know exactly who’s holding you in his arms._

_“Sebastian...” I say solemnly._

_You open your eyes cautiously. And blink at me slowly. You don’t understand yet, and you stare at me as if not daring to hope._

_“Welcome to my realm...” I whisper. “My Tiger...”_

We fall, fall through eternity and night, through abyss and time -

\- this must be it -

\- I hold on to you for as long as I can, before I disappear -

Oh. This isn't it yet.

I feel stone under my feet. We appear to have landed - somewhere.

I open my eyes, see you - but you've changed. Your eyes are black; and you look - immaculate, your face no longer stained with blood, clean-shaven, your hair slicked back, wearing a pristine black suit. But you still look like _you_.

_Welcome to my realm_ , you whisper.

"So - this is - the realm of Death?" I ask, still a bit stunned. We are in a large room with dark walls, arched windows up impossibly high, through which moonlight shines, making the place look eerie, full of silhouettes and silver and shadows.

"So - where do I go from here?"

_"Sebastian..." I say, stunned. "I didn't even realize this would be possible until the very last moment - when Destruction took hold of you at the Conclave, you became his avatar..."_

_You shiver. "I remember..." you say, a haunted look in your eye._

_"The only reason you had your final hours with Jim was because Destruction allowed it -_

_But because you were still technically the avatar of Destruction, even while he was absent from your form, it meant you were of the Endless. *Are* of the Endless."_

_You blink at me, not comprehending. "What - does it mean, I am of the Endless...?"_

_"It means, my dearest..." My hand curls around your wrist, and I hold your hand to my lips. "You found the *only* way open to you to enter my realm. My brilliant Tiger... because your life ended *before* Destruction returned to your form, you escaped him *and* I was able to take you into one of the Endless realms..."_

_You gaze at me in awe._ _Just then I hear a scream of anguish reverberating across dimensions. I feel a piercing pain in my heart, and then a crushing sensation against my chest. I can barely breathe from the pressure, and I stumble back. I try to speak, but there's a painful lump in my throat, and it feels scraped raw from screaming..._

_I don't have a physical body! *Where is this coming from*-??_

_I close my eyes tightly._

_Oh... gods... no..._

_I don't usually dwell on what gets left behind once I transport the spirit..._

_But this time - what's been left behind is a part of me - and I can no longer separate myself as Death from my avatar._

_I look at you and you're staring at me with wide eyes._

_"What's wrong?" you demand urgently._

_*Ohh*...such pain..._

_How can I hide this from you? How can I go on like this??_

_Oh gods..._

_*Jim*..._

You're looking like you're in agony - what's going on?

"Jim?" no - "Thanatos?" oh fuck it - "Jim!! What's happening?"

Fuck - did this do this to you? Are you now in pain because I'm here?

Or - Destruction? Is he attacking you?

"Jim! Please - what's going on? What can I do?"

_I shake myself out of my tormented state - and then firmly disconnect from my avatar’s feelings. I am Endless - I do not get carried away with *feelings*, even for him..._

_poor, grieving-_

_*NO.*_

_I touch your face, so distressed for me... “Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Sebastian... you’ve only just arrived, and it must all seem so strange... but this is your new home. And I would love to show it to you...” I take your hand and kiss the palm - now unmarked by the burn Jim had recently left. I smile when I see this, and lick the skin._

_To think... I’ll finally be able to sleep with you, now that you’re in my realm. I have only done so through Jim’s memories... and the wedding night is very fresh in my mind. My god, the passion between you two... and as I have melded with Jim indelibly, so it will be between us..._

_You gaze at me as I continue to stroke your face. “How are you feeling, darling?” I murmur._

_***_

_On the floor of my bedroom I hold your body to my chest, bloody and limp. I have ceased screaming, and now weep brokenly._

_I thought Destruction had... but the gun in your..._

_“Why did you- WHY?” I howl._

_Nothing answers me, of course. The room is silent as the grave._

***

"I'm... fine?" I do a scan of my body - realize that, in fact, I _am_ fine. My breathing doesn't hurt, my foot seems happy standing on the stone slabs -

I look at my arm, turn it. My old scar is still there, from the knife in my early twenties, but the cuts you made tonight are gone.

You see me looking.

"When you die, your spirit takes on the form that you see when you picture yourself. It's not bound by physical law, so it assumes the shape that you think of as you. So, people who have died in car accidents don't come out all mangled - they look like they did before the accident. People who die after an illness usually look younger and healthier, the way they remember themselves before they got sick. So that scar is one that you have grown to see as part of you, but the cuts and burns I gave you last night weren't." Your hand strokes my skin.

Your eyes suddenly grow a bit larger, your hand moves on my back, and your mouth falls open. You turn me around.

"The M -" you say, touching my back. "Oh god Seb - you kept the M -"

I turn back round, see your eyes, dark, large, and - damp? I touch my back - yes, the M is there, I can feel it.

"Jim's mark of ownership..."

Makes sense...

***

_…_

_God knows how much time has passed._

_Time has no meaning._

_Nothing has any meaning._

_I find myself stretched out against your body, half cradling you, half draped over you. My tears have dried up. My throat is raw. I am hollowed out, more empty than I’ve ever been._

_“I know you probably couldn’t - handle-“ I break off with a sob. “But at least you would have been in the world... somewhere... now where are you, Sebbie?”_

_Oblivion? Would Death have shown up personally to escort you? I’m sure he would have... I feel like I should be able to connect with him, but - is he shutting me out?? Now, of all times??_

_I close my eyes, exhausted._

_“I understand, Sebbie... even if it hurts me...” I say in a tremulous voice. “Because I was selfish, too. I let myself sleep - I didn’t have to. For the first time, I could have stayed, and been conscious when Death arrived at midnight. But - I couldn’t face seeing Destruction take you over. Whatever he would have said to me with your face... would have stayed with me all my life... and it would have destroyed me.”_

_Fresh tears burst forth._

_“Turns out, I needn’t have worried... without you, Sebbie, there’s nothing left to destroy.”_

_I sniffle, and run my hands over the gun lying next to you. The metal is cool and soothing to my touch._

***

I'm slowly starting to realize that I'm not disappearing anywhere. I feel fine - but most of all, I feel _real_. My body is my body, not some ethereal construct. When I pinch myself, it hurts. I feel the flagstones under my feet, a slight breeze against my back - I am still quite naked, though no longer covered in blood.

The room we are in is large and looks like some kind of abandoned church - the type of place you'd expect Death to reside in, really. I open my mouth to ask you about it, when a voice roars out from an adjoining room.

"BROTHER! I am in my gallery, and am holding your _fucking_ sigil - come and talk to me, you _twat!"_

I flinch. You sigh, turn to the doorway that the sound is coming from. "Don't worry, Tiger, he can't actually come here... not unless I invite him, and I won't."

We walk to the side chamber, a long rectangular room with seven frames on the wall, holding items. I recognize Despair's ring - oh. Sigils of your siblings.

You walk to the middle one, holding a sword. "Go away, Brother. You've lost."

A roar shakes the room. "Give him _back!_ He's _mine!"_

You take my hand in yours, stroke it with your thumb.

"His body is back in the world, but I don't think it'll be much use to you any more. What I have here is his Endless essence... _partly_ you, yes, but I don't think you need that part. You're not getting it, anyway..." You lift my hand to your lips and kiss it.

"Thanatos! You _thug!_ You're _always_ taking away what's mine -"

"I take everything, in the end..." you smile. "It's destiny."

***

_I swallow hard and take in a shaky breath._

_“I was right about love, Sebbie...” I say softly. “Not that it didn’t exist, it turns out... But I knew I was horrified by it for a reason. So bad for business.”_

_I stroke your cheek, cool to the touch._

_My lips tug up into a brave smile. “You’re the lucky one, honey...”_

_Slowly I stand. My legs are so weak, I nearly fall over. Carefully I walk over to my laptop, and bring it back._

_I sit on the floor next to you, and watch the screen as it powers up._

_I have 14 hours to accomplish everything that needs doing._

_I set to work. Instructions. Orders. Transfers._

_Arrangements._

_Schemes._

_At some point, I wander downstairs for a bottle of water. I see the remnants of our wedding feast, and our cake - which throws me off my schedule as I fall to the floor, weeping. I have no idea how much time has passed before I rush back to the bedroom, paranoid that you’ve disappeared. That Destruction has snuck in and stolen you away._

_But you’re still where I left you, looking peaceful. I’m glad you’ve found peace._

_I’m also hurt and furious, but I don’t want to shout at you and make you feel guilty - what if your spirit is still lingering?_

_*Oh*..._

_I touch the air gently over your face, then move my hand about._

_“Sebastian?” I call out hopefully._

_Nothing._

_My hand drops to my lap._

_“You’re really gone, aren’t you?” I whisper._

***

"I warned you what would happen if you got in my way again. I've had _enough_ of you, big brother. I'm leaving. There's nothing Dream can do to get me back now."

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out..." you say, unperturbed.

He roars and curses, but you walk back out of the gallery, close the door behind you, which silences the tirade.

"Jim -" you still look like Jim, I'm going to have to get used to not calling you Jim - "Is this - bad? Will you get in trouble?"

Wait -

Jim.

_JIM_.

I look at you. "You're - Death -"

"Yes?" you reply, looking puzzled.

"Where is Jim? What's happened to him? Did - did Destruction get him??!"

You look shocked, but also - what? Pained? Guilty?

"No, Destruction left when he felt you die... Jim's... safe..."

Safe? What does that mean?

"Is he - is he there all alone? With - my dead body?! Does he know I'm here??"

***

_I feel something like a ripple through the air, and my heart begins to race... but then nothing. It’s hard to think clearly after working solidly for more than 12 hours on the floor next to your dead beloved..._

_no food, no fresh air, no movement..._

_And - now I’m left looking for signs that your spirit is in the room with me? Or listening from the great beyond? Come on, Jimmy... you know better than that._

_I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, and breathe deeply._

_I don’t have much left in me. It’s amazing I got this far..._

_Right. Back to work. Enough delays. This is too important not to get right._

_Also *not important at all*, but one way or another we all have our ties to the world... even me._

_So I set about untying them._

_Slowly._

_Methodically._

_Without mercy._

_And then suddenly - I’m done._

_Done like dreams..._

_I look up from my laptop, exhausted. It’s dark out. How the hours do fly by..._

_I’m nearly at my destination. I stare at the laptop, shaking my head. There’s just the final step to take... and I want to be clear-headed enough to appreciate it. But not so much I return to those... *feelings*..._

_I trail my hands over your arm._

_“I won’t be gone but a moment, Tiger,” I murmur. Then I stumble out to the hallway and return downstairs to the kitchen._

_I ignore the wedding feast... and collect the final bottle of champagne the caterer had dropped off._

_When I return, I sink back to the floor. “Hey, Sebbie...” I say softly. “We’ve been married for a day...”_

_I pop the champagne, watch the cork zip through the room and bang against the wall. I take a long drink from the foamy bottle - then I touch my mouth to yours, leaving a few drops of champagne on your lips._

_“I wish we’d had longer, too...” I murmur._

_Ignoring the stinging of my eyes and the lump in my throat, I pick up my laptop again._

_“It was a bit mental, I know - but I suppose I’m too much of a megalomaniac to just slip away quietly. I had to leave some lovely parting gifts for the Holmesy Boys.” I chuckle, despite myself. “Sherly will spend the rest of his life trying to decipher my clues. God, he should feel *honoured* that I’ve created this little scavenger hunt for him all over the world... ‘course the final prize will be so *nonsensical*, he’ll probably hurt his brain trying to find the secret meaning. The secret is... there *is* no meaning.” I giggle helplessly behind my hand. “You didn’t get to meet him but never mind - he’s an arrogant twat._

_And his big brother Mikey will spend god knows how long trying to undo the *epic mayhem* I managed to pull off - good thing I had laid the groundwork. I just... didn’t foresee this happening so *soon*...” I stare off for a moment, then shrug._

_“Oh well!” I chirp, and grin madly._

_“I wish you were here to enjoy this with me, Tiger... *3 - 2 - 1 - *“_

_I raise the champagne bottle._

_“*Initiate*.”_

_I click a series of apps with theatricality._

_Then I drink from the bottle, and wipe my mouth with my fist._

_For the next little while, I watch confirmations and data flow in - a few trickles at first... then steady streams... then mighty flowing rivers..._

_And I watch, conducting with a mock baton._

_“I knew it would work,” I say offhandedly. “Comes of being a genius. You learn how to implement brilliant ideas in a way that account for unknown variables. Of course, I didn’t account for this one...” I touch the wound at your temple lightly. “But it didn’t matter in the end... Of everything I’ve done in this life, loving you was the very best thing - and the most brilliant thing I could *ever* have achieved was making you fall in love with me.”_

_I laugh through my tears. “You didn’t really fight me on that, did you, Tiger...”_

_I gently pull off the cling-wrap from your finger and I stare for a long moment at your wedding ring tattoo. “He numbed the pain for me when he first took me over. I didn’t tell you the terrible story, but - my mam and brother died under tragic circumstances, and I never really got over it. It helped, losing myself in him night after night. But with you, I know it won’t be enough... I need what only he can give me now...” I glance at the time, and sag against your body with relief._

_I raise your hand to my lips and kiss your tattoo - the delicate magpie, nestled in a heart of bones. “Happy one day anniversary, Sebbie...” I whisper._

_I scoop up your gun, and slide it into my mouth. Then I squeeze the trigger._

_*Thump*._


	16. Remembering His Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At night in this house of fire I recount the sadness of years. I tell the story of months. Give me my name. Say it over red jasper dipped in an unguent of flowers. When I had no visions, ravens came for my eyes. The breath of life escaped. When I had no words, worms crawled through my teeth. I am more than flesh and bone. I am more than the deeds I have done. I am more than all I remember. Give me my name. Say it over red jasper laid in the heart of sycamore. Give me my name that gods may call me to soar like the hawk and crane.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Nebseni, Chapter XXV. Translation Normandi Ellis.

You are looking uncomfortable.

"Jim is safe," you repeat. "I will join with him again at midnight, and we will continue as before, until his body grows old and I take him inside me like he took me inside him."

"But -" I look at you, aghast - don't you understand?

"Does he know I'm here, or does he think I'm dead? How is he feeling? He must be so - it seemed the only way out for me - but it must break his heart -"

I'm about to ask you to go to him, when I realize you're no longer listening. You've stopped dead, are looking somewhere way beyond me, your eyes large, dark, shocked, in pain.

And then you're gone.

One second you're here, the next I'm staring at thin air.

"Jim?" I call out.

"Thanatos?"

_Blackness... beautiful velvet night surrounds me..._

_And then white light..._

_so bright..._

_I crack open my eyes. I'm in a room - that room, where our story began, and where it ended._

_And I find I'm not alone..._

_"Hello," I greet him quietly._

_His eyes are gleaming black obsidian. It's so strange looking at my face..._

_"Jim - I didn't know! I would have come sooner..."_

_He actually sounds mournful._

_"Oh... Don't you know these types of things?" I ask, puzzled. I look at my hand in fascination. It's like my body, but lighter... and it almost glows..._

_"I... felt your pain," he admitted, wincing. "It was... unlike anything I had experienced. And it was so hard to let myself feel it, so I - couldn't-"_

_He stares at my body on the floor, lying against Sebastian's._

_"You shut down, I understand. That's what we do..." I reassure him, and look away from the floor quickly._

_"But I don't normally... feel..." he says, sounding troubled._

_"It's new to me, too," I say sorrowfully. “I guess this is what comes of melding with a human so deeply... a human in love, no less! Should you have listened to Morphy, I wonder?"_

_"Hush... no need for something so drastic..." he says, and we both smile at each other slyly._

_"So... why did you do it?" I ask him. I know we'll have to leave soon, and when we do I'll be leaving my darling behind forever... I just need a few more moments in our room..._

_"I suppose I should be asking *you* why you did it, under the circumstances..." he muses, gesturing at my body on the floor._

_*Don't ask me to go there*, I think in a panic, and wave my hand, feigning breeziness. "Far too easy, darling. But I truly want to know... why did you meld with me so deeply? It does seem ill-advised..." I chide, shaking my finger at him._

_He stares at me for a long time. "I never really understood it. Once I had experienced life as your companion long enough... perhaps... I grew tired of being alone..." he says, and his face looks so young. I stare at him in amazement - this being of unfathomable power who has borne eternity on his own..._

_"Now me, Jimmy! You were safe from feelings for so long - why did you let yourself feel so deeply again?" he asks, eyes wide._

_I take a shaky breath. Strange how I find myself doing something my body no longer needs, but - it's comforting, somehow. "Same..." I say sadly. I finally allow myself to look at Sebastian, and drop down to the floor next to his body. Pain cuts through me so sharply, like jagged glass in my abdomen. I stare at his still face in horror._

_"I only had a few days with him..." I cry. "Please, I *can't*... meld with me now, *please*! I can't face this on my own!"_

_In an instant, he has swooped down next to me, and billowing mist pours out of him like great wings, enveloping us both._

_"You don't have to, darling..." he whispers. "You'll never be alone again..."_

_"Take me into you, let me become *you*..." I beg. "I don't want to feel anymore..."_

_"We are already one..." I hear inside my head. "But it's *me* who has become you... Jim..."_

_And with a swirl of mist, we melt into the blackness._

Now what??

I look around, afraid that it was _me_ who disappeared, that I _have_ moved on to oblivion after all...

But no, the room is still as solid as it was before, the moon is still visible through the high windows, the flagstones cold under my feet...

"Hello?" I call out. My voice echoes. No reply.

Did you go to Jim? But then - why did you look so panicked? Is Jim OK?

Jim...

I look around the room. There’s the door to the gallery - I'm not going there. But there's a massive wooden door at the end of the room, with a smaller door inside. I walk over, pull open the smaller door - a garden. It looks beautiful under the full moon, silver and black, the soft breeze making the shadows dance. I carefully step through it, walk a few paces through the grass, look around to see if I can see anyone, anything.

_One instant I'm wondering what Death meant by this - *He has become... me?*_

_But then - we're moving through such deep beautiful blackness, and there is no *I*, only... Us..._

_moving through the Void as One..._

_beyond form..._

_and an instant later, I feel myself reassembling, and -_

_where - am I?_

_*Home*, I hear him whispering in my mind._

_Your realm? I ask, intrigued. I stare into the distance, and see so much to explore - mountains... oceans... forests... and nearby, a great gleaming palace._

_*Your realm now...* he whispers, and I feel his fascination at seeing this world through my eyes._

_I feel a surge of excitement, and then something else trickles through..._

_"My realm... to be *alone* in..." I breathe, and find myself swamped with all the grief and sorrow and pain I thought I would leave behind._

_"I thought the pain would *stop* here," I cry out accusingly._

_*Jim... no, I need to show you...*_

_"Take me over, like you did at night... please!"_

_*JIM... go to the gardens now...you'll see...*_

_I stare at the palace, and the grounds. What do I care about the *fucking gardens*? I think, overcome with fury and pain._

_I assume I can't kill myself in the realm of Death, since I'm already dead... But I sure as fuck don't intend to flounce around a pretty palace, crying my eyes out... how do I get out of this realm, and find Oblivion?? I close my eyes and reach deep within the darkness curled within me for the information I require... which grows suddenly very, very alert._

_*Jim? What are you-*_

_"Doing what I do best, my dear. Shutting down." I feel panic rise up before I slam a metal gate over our connection._

_I storm off in the direction of the cliffs overlooking the sea._

A massive thunderclap in my head. Beating black wings, the volume multiplied by a thousand. A voice. _Yours_.

"SEBASTIAN!!!"

"What?!" I grab my head, cringing at the loudness.

"SEBASTIAN! JIM!!"

_Jim?!_

I look around, wild, trying to spot a shape, movement -

 _There_.

A small figure in a suit is running across the grassy downs.

_Jim!?!_

Yes, unmistakably... I am already running, but there is such a distance between us...

... oh god you're running for the cliffs - what are you -

_\- what do you think -_

\- no -

_"*JIM!!!*"_

The sound echoes from the walls of the castle, from the distant mountains, is repeated by flurries of birds which erupt from trees, groaned by the very earth itself.

_There’s a cool, detached part of myself making inquiries as I make my way to my destination - the black cliffs I can jump from to leave this realm. I sense there are other ways, but I don’t particularly want to have a conversation with the Death side of myself at the moment. Fuck him - he told me *I’d never be alone again*..._

_Snarling with fury, I pick up my pace._

_*So... is throwing yourself into Oblivion supposed to be a romantic gesture?*_

_“Piss off...” I snap._

_*And... what do you think it will do to the universe if Death enters Oblivion?*_

_“Profound metaphysical question! Shame I won’t be around to find out!” I sing loudly._

_Suddenly I hear my name rise up like the entire realm is shouting it... I wince then focus on shutting it out. I can do that - shut things out. Like what I did to Sebastian, I think - before I fell in love..._

_Pain cuts through me, and I stumble -_

_*Thump*._

_I look around in a daze and find myself sprawled on the ground._

_How the *fuck* did his name get through my filter? I demand of myself._

_Then I hear the voice again._

_Only this time... it sounds like..._

_I look up slowly, and see a dark shape waving at me frantically._

_Is this a *trick*? I think, panicking._

_Of course it is... humans can’t come here, Death said so..._

_He must have sent forth an apparition to stop me, and... imprison me in some dark tower until I relent..._

_And I will *never relent*..._

_I jump up and move steadily backwards towards the cliffs._

Thank goodness, you stop - fall over -

stay there, Jim -

What are you doing?! You're getting back up - running away -

"JIM!! For _FUCK'S_ sake! Come back! Jim! It's me! PLEASE!!"

_“Oh, *well done*... and well played!” I howl into the sky. “Don’t you *dare* use him to trick me...”_

_As the Sebastian illusion is growing closer, I can’t take my eyes off it..._

_gods... no..._

_I glance behind me, and see the cliffs looming - but I can’t help but look back to see your anguished face. If my last sight is of you, it will make it that much easier to fling myself into the portal that will take me to the Void..._

_“It’s *too late*...” I shout, my voice cracking. “There’s nothing left for me here... or anywhere...”_

What do you mean!? What happened to make you this desperate??

Wait - trick? You think I'm a _trick??_

"Jim! I'm not a trick, you bloody drama queen! It's me! Your fucking _husband!_ Death! Tell him!"

I keep running - but you're slowly edging towards the cliffs –

_“Drama queen?” I shout, furious. “What do you call inflicting the image of my Tiger on me? You’re not fighting fair, you *ruthless fucker*!”_

"I am your fucking Tiger, you idiot! Who else would come running naked up a fucking hill towards you like bleeding Catherine Earnshaw!?" I shout exasperated.

Almost there –

_I grow still. Remarkable illusion, I’ll grant him that... god, he mimics Sebastian perfectly..._

_“Oh, I don’t know...” I shout back. “The perfect impression of my love, orchestrated by the most powerful of the Endless? *Of course* you’d have him snarking at me, and cursing...!”_

_The look on your face... so loving, so exasperated... God, I could almost believe it’s *you*. I stumble as I take another step back._

You're stumbling - again -

\- too close to the edge -

I dive forward, grasp you, pull you back, pin you underneath me.

"Will you _fucking_ listen to me! And Death! Where the hell are you! _Talk_ to him, for fuck's sake!

I'm _not_ a trick! I was taken here by Death - and he said I made it because I was part Endless now - I don't understand, but it's _me_ , alright!?

Death! Explain to him!"

_I could have - made it -_

_but that look - that voice -_

_I was too weak to resist..._

_and now, pinned underneath you..._

_god, it's so *physical*, almost like when we were alive..._

_but I can't allow myself to think this is *real*! It would shatter my already broken heart..._

_"I shut him out..." I snap, steeling myself. "I have that power since he became me... Fine, Death! What do you have to say for yourself..."_

_*Sebastian is right... you're an idiot...* the voice resounds in my head, and I wince. You seem to hear it too, looking relieved but still so tense._

_*I had no time to tell you before you flew off the handle, you little fool... LOOK at him, for fuck's sake... he's Endless, and he's YOURS... can we not fling ourselves into the Void now, please?*_

_I blink up at you. "Not.. a trick?" I whisper, afraid to believe it._

"Why would I _trick_ you!?" I exclaim. "Listen to - yourself! I'm yours! And I'm Endless! But not Destruction! I'm - Endless Tiger, or something."

*He became Endless when Destruction took him over - but died before he had fully taken possession of him. So when he died, he wasn't fully Destruction, but he wasn't a mere human either, so I could take him here,* Death explains.

Jim -

oh god you're Jim - you're Jim, you're not Death, you're my Jim -

but -

"What happened? How did you get here??"

_Endless Tiger? I think to myself in a daze._

_"I couldn't-" I lose my voice for a moment. "You're really you?" I demand._

_"*Yes*," you reply in exasperation, but you smile faintly as you stroke the hair off my forehead. "I didn't think I'd have to work so hard to convince you..."_

_"You're here?" I ask in confusion. "You can - stay?"_

_"Yes," you murmur. "With you, Jim...”_

_This can't be right... it can't be!_

_"I can't believe that, and then lose you again," I say desperately, trying to pull away. "I *can't*-"_

_"What happened to you, Jim?" you ask urgently, holding me firmly against you._

_"I *couldn't*, Sebastian. It was too much... I couldn't face a lifetime without you..." I said brokenly. "I thought Death would take me over completely like he did at night, and I wouldn't have to feel any of this. But then - he became a part of me instead... and I still felt everything... I felt... *all of it*!”_

_I bury my face in your chest, weeping. Your skin is warm - I could almost believe we're back in our bedroom... as we were when we were in love and safe in each other's arms, before everything shattered._

I hold you close as you weep your poor heart and soul out, stroking you, kissing the top of your head. I don't have any handkerchiefs on me for you, my love...

In my head I'm trying to work out what your words meant.

_I couldn't, Sebastian..._

_couldn't face a lifetime without you..._

I don't want to... but I can picture you sitting there, holding my lifeless body, crying...

My gun in my hand...

"Jim..." I whisper. "Jim, I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry I hurt you..."

You look up at me, eyes streaming.

"Did you -" my voice chokes.

_My tears begin to slow and I look up at you, exhausted._

_"As did you..." I whisper. "Quite the wedding night, Sebastian..."_

_You choke back a sob, and hold me so close, nearly crushing me. I'll have to ask Death how this feels so *physical*. I'm going to be so wildly curious about *everything* about this place... but all in good time._

_"Darling..." I choke. "You're crushing me... I know you can't kill me, but-"_

_"Sorry," you murmur, and pull back slightly._

_"I didn't expect things to feel so physical here... but it's a pleasant surprise... it means we can..." I look up at you, and our eyes lock. What's sex like in the realm of Death, I wonder? A smile slowly spreads across my tear-streaked face._

Oh god Jim -

You killed yourself -

Because you couldn't live in a world without me -

Destruction, you have a _lot_ to answer for. Except you don't, do you, because the fate of two mortals doesn't concern you.

And then – oh.

Jim. You impossible lush.

I grin, move down, kiss you. It's messy and wet and sloppy but it is unbelievably good.

We break apart, look at each other. I want to grab you, but -

"So - where's Death? Are you - him now? And if not - where is he? I hear his voice, but - his body was here before, and it was your body..."

I'm confused. You look like you, not like Death. Your eyes are dark, but not black.

_“I’m still catching up... But when I arrived, I absorbed Death into me. He can still talk to me, but he doesn’t appear separately from me anymore... I guess if I’m Death, you can think of him as Thanatos... the original form of Death, before he became Jim. *Jesus...*“ I shake my head. “It’s a metaphysical mindfuck, which is not exactly my forte... did I get that right?” I call out._

_I hear *Yes, my dear...* inside my head and everywhere at once. It sounds like my voice, but there’s an undercurrent of ancient power, dark and terrible. And then He adds, *When you were alive, I was there in the background during the day, and would take over at night. Now that you are here, I am in the background all the time, and there is no need to take over. I am you, you are me... and Death and his consort are safely together now... and *home*...*”_

_*Home*... A shiver runs through me - something has happened on a level I’m not familiar with - yet._

_I look at you with wide eyes. “Death... and his consort...” I say slowly. “Has a nice ring to it...” A memory flashes... two men in the throes of dark, violent passion on their wedding night, blood dripping down our skin as time slips away..._

_I take your hand in mine, and stare in amazement at the tattooed wedding rings._

_“Still here...” I murmur, kissing your finger fervently._

"So you're... Death now? So - this is your realm? And - I can stay?!" I can hardly believe it. Did we - beat -

"... what about Destruction? Is this - bad? Will you get in trouble?"

I don't care about the world - it can burn and die as far as I'm concerned. But you -

"... no, don't think so," you say, with a voice that sounds like Jim, but also of primordial force, ancient dark wings; a voice that hearkens back to the first ending...

"Oh, Morphy will glower and moan, and Delirium will be sad until something distracts her, but - destruction doesn't need Destruction to happen.

Like - if I disappeared, people would still die. Dream himself was gone for a few decennia, and people still dreamed. There will be a few anomalies, but nothing world-shattering.

He'll either stop sulking and return, or eventually another will rise to take his place. We are endless..."

_I watch you take this information in, your brow furrowing._

_“It’s... a lot to take in...” I say, shaking my head in a daze. “But... there’s time enough for us to understand... so much has happened-“ I lose my voice again for a moment._

_My hand curls around your wrist._

_“We got *married*... we had the most epic wedding night ever... Then you *died*...” I say in a fragile voice, pressing your hand to my face._

_“I grieved. And died. And - almost found my way into Oblivion... until you stopped me. God... I don’t think we need to have it all figured out right now. Let’s just- take a fucking moment. Sebbie... the odds were against us at *every turn*. And... *We. Made. It*.”_

_A smirk rises to my lips, despite the overwhelming emotion and poignancy of the moment. Or maybe because of it..._

_“I did mention that the world remakes itself to suit my desires, did I not?” I say stroking your cheek, feeling my eyes gleam._

I feel my mouth widen into a big grin.

"You did indeed - I was such a fool to doubt you..."

I rise up, pull you up with me, spin you around in the air. "You utterly epic amazing wonderful luscious - what are you? Entity? Whatever - you are and always will be *my Jim* -" I kiss your cheek, wet from tears.

"Is there a shower in this place? Or - do we bathe under black granite waterfalls?"

_It’s *so weird* to reach for information that I didn’t know before, and feel it tumbling into my consciousness. I blink as I see a floor plan to the palace appear in my head._

_“There are showers, yes... And this isn’t like the mortal realm,” I say slowly, as knowledge formulates in my mind. “You can manifest things far more quickly - it just takes practice. So we can do to the palace as we like. And to the lands... god, there’s so much to explore. But first things first... shower. Indoors or out?” I look up at you with a glowing smile._

“Outdoor shower? Sounds luscious...” I grin. I realize I’m not cold, despite being naked on a cliff edge.

You smile proudly, walk ahead of me back down towards the palace, lead me on a path leading past the gardens.

We get to a semi-secluded area in which cast-iron ornate trelliswork creates a beautiful pergola. It’s lushly decorated with gold and silver flowers; real flowers on vines intertwined with the trellis give off a rich sensuous scent.

You pull off your clothes, walk underneath, and water starts flowing from the centre of the pergola onto your naked form.

I stand for no more than a second, admiring the sheer beauty of the water dancing over your body in the dappled moonlight, steam rising up around you, and then I join you under the stream - deliciously warm.

“Death likes his luxuries...” I mumble admiringly.

You grin, reach out, pluck a flower that’s grown through the trellis, rub it across my skin. It creates a delicious-smelling lather.

_God... It’s like I’ve fallen into a realm that’s so me, it was *custom-designed* for me. And I have no idea if it was like this before I arrived, or - does it just appear this way now because of what I like? I don’t think I want all the mysteries revealed to me all at once... I rather like the idea of sussing this out over time._

_Me in my former life would have been far more impatient. But the thought of *discovering* things with you - god, I can’t imagine something more glorious._

_It’s so strange to think of the devastating place we were in before we arrived, and - even after, until we reunited. I shudder as I realize how close we came to losing *everything*... I don’t know how long it will take for this to sink in. I suspect a good long time..._

_Well, at the moment, I have better things to do than fret about the past - I’m bathing in the most amazing outdoor shower in the most beautiful land I could ever imagine... with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen._

_I breathe in the sumptuous scent of the flower-lather and watch you as you close your eyes and breathe deep. Your head drops back and you look positively blissful._

_“Sebastian - I just realized. It’s our honeymoon...” I murmur._

Honeymoon...

I open my eyes, look at the full moon visible through the latticework.

"We thought we only had a few hours... and we crammed it as full of desperate sex, blood, violence, lust as we could. And it was _glorious_... but I'd love to savour my _husband_ without Despair's hook tearing at my heart," I grin.

"Do you know what sex is like as an Endless?" I wonder, not quite sure if I feel jealousy - it's still hard to think of you as Death rather than Jim, though death fits you like a tailored glove...

_I stare at you with the beginnings of a feral smile._

_"Oh, I'm sure I could access that information, but... I'd hate to spoil the surprise, Tiger. For either of us..."_

_I lean in towards you, pressing against your wet, slippery skin. "But I have a feeling it will be... eye-opening. Don't you?" I whisper into your ear._

I shiver as you press against me. My adrenaline rush of, well, dying, has worn off, and I can feel lust again... which seems a relief - for all I know I'd be sexless here, a spirit - but Little Seb seems very keen to explore the possibilities of sex after death. And you feel reassuringly real...

With a shock I recall the time when we went to bed - when you were Death and I was your... associate. And I couldn't touch, though I wanted to so much... and you looked so pale, so divine, so otherworldly beautiful...

A moan escapes my lips as I slide my hands over your wet, smooth body.

_You begin to caress me and I hold your jaw in my hand._

_“Bedroom, darling...” I say roughly._

_Your eyes widen, and we step out of the pergola. We find towels waiting for us - are there servants here, or...?_

_Hmm... curious..._

_But a question for later. Much later._

_Wrapped in fresh towels, I take you by the hand and lead you to another pergola at a distance - this one containing a bed, and sumptuous black drapery, billowing in the sea breeze. How... deliciously... decadent..._

_if there *are* servants here, I hope for their sakes they know to make themselves scarce. Or... we’ll be not unlike ancient Romans, fucking without a thought to who is standing in a corner holding a tray of wine..._

_A smile plays on my lips._

_I think I’m going to like this..._

_I pull you into the pavilion. “Why are you still wearing that?” I ask, and pull my own towel off and throw it onto the cool marble floor. “Off. *Now*.” I growl and stretch out on the bed, languidly like a cat._

Oh, wow. So this is kind of a garden of unearthly delights... that's some bedroom you have there, my dark lord.

I grin, whip off the towel, stand before you, naked and eager.

"So I've consummated my marriage with Jim... but I haven't been able to touch Death. I can't wait for him to claim me..."

_“Oh... you want Death, Sebbie?” I ask innocently, and feel my eyes go black._

_“Come taste Death... darling...” I order, my voice reverberating. The bed and pergola tremble._

Oh dear... is this wise, Sebastian?

No, mum - but then it's not like it can kill me.

Oh –

mum.

Sorry.

Well - it won't be unexpected. You knew what I was like. And you were always surprised when I came back from a mission.

And - it's not like I've seen much of you these past years. You'll be alright. And I would give something to see dad's face when they tell him his son died in a violent homosexual orgy/double suicide.

I grin, walk up to the bed, sink into Death's embrace.

_This is the first time I have truly felt like Death... up until now it’s been one of us at a time, or me communicating with him._

_Up until now, we have been kept separate - by him when I was alive... And now in his realm, at first I wanted nothing but to lose myself in him, to stop the pain of loss. But then when Sebastian returned, I was so afraid of merging... what if I didn’t feel like myself anymore?_

_But I’m starting to understand what he meant when he said *I am you, you are me*..._

_I drag my fingers down your chest, your abdomen, your hips... by the time I reach your thighs, my nails have dug into your skin. And the blood that spills forth, the sharp intake of breath, the shiver that moves through you... are like meat and drink to me._

_If anything I feel more myself than ever..._

_And the Death part of me is revelling in your skin, so much skin... to taste, to touch, to *mark*..._

_I press up against you, and drag your mouth down to mine. When I bite your lip and feel blood drip against my tongue, I moan with the overwhelming, exquisite, sybaritic *pleasure* of it all..._

Your nails in my skin feel the same... your kiss feels the same... oh god your _bite_ feels the same -

\- and I groan, sinking into the sensation, so tremendously relieved that I still feel, still have a body, apparently one that I dreamed up myself, but it seems to function; it can _feel_ , it can bleed, it can taste the blood, it can hold you, it can groan your name, and oh yes, it can get turned on... but then it's _you_ \- not even being dead could stop me from being turned on by you...

_My hands move all over you, claiming your chest, your arse, your cock..._

_making you moan so beautifully... Your breath grows shallow, and we break apart from the kiss to stare at each other so intently._

_Fuck... and I thought our connection was intense before._

_"Tiger, darling..." I say in a half-purr, half-growl. "I believe I told you to taste Death..."_

_My hands move up to your shoulders, and my nails turn claw-like against your skin._

Oh - yes -

Again I remember the night we made love as Death and Associate - how much I yearned for your luscious cock, and couldn't touch it -

... and now I can...

I lean down as your nails dig into my shoulders, put my lips on your cock with a moan.

_Your lips slide over me, and *god*, the sensation is just as intensely pleasurable as I remember - but there's also an air of dark enchantment in the air here. Like we're being bewitched with every breath... I guess it's because we're formerly mortal that we continue to breathe? Perhaps we don't need to, but it feels familiar and... comforting._

_And also - Sebastian is doing some magnificent work, and you're in your head, Jimmy. Perhaps save these thoughts for another time, hmmm?_

_And do focus on your other head, which currently has a skilled Tiger tongue swirling around it... and mmm yes, back to sucking..._

_*fuck*..._

_I moan at your attention, and my fingers tighten in your hair._

_Then lust overcomes me, setting my limbs on fire. I drag you off my cock, and grasp your arms as I stare at you._

_"So you want to be claimed, Tiger...?" I purr. "I am the sovereign ruler of this realm and every bit of it already belongs to me. But perhaps my new husband needs the point driven home, mmm...?"_

_I capture your lips with mine and kiss you hungrily as I flip you over._

_"And my Consort too, needs to know the lay of the land..." I whisper, and lean down to lick your throat. "Mmm... isn't that so, darling?"_

I gasp -

god - yes -

Our wedding night seems like it took place in another realm, another time, another life - well - technically it did, I guess -

It was _so_ passionate but also _so_ desperate - I needed more and more physical pain to drown out the emotional pain, but it didn't work -

I can't wait to feel you own me and know that it is _forever_ , not for one night...

I groan with desire, with yearning, with love...

"Jim... Death... I'm yours... your Consort, your husband, yours... I love you, god I love you..."

_I rise, and straddle you. My eyes soften as I look down at you, and I stroke your face._

_“Darling... I love you more than words can possibly express at this moment...”_

_I take your wrists, and place them above your head. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement from the cast-iron headboard. I watch in awe as vines wind around the decorative ironwork, and slowly circle your wrists. There are delicate thorns that pierce your flesh, making you shiver and moan._

_Oh... my..._

_Stunned I watch more vines slide down over your body and wrap sumptuously around your thighs. You suck in your breath as they move your legs up and apart._

_Mesmerized, I move down to your thighs, and lick in between the vines to lap up the drops of blood. Then I move my tongue down to your perineum and down down down... when my tongue breaches your opening, your body jerks with pleasure. I move it further in, and your intake of breath is absolutely intoxicating..._

_After several moments of using my tongue to draw out the most exquisite noises from you, I can’t wait another moment to possess you... only... where to find lube in the realm of Death??_

_My eyes are drawn to the white flowers budding and blossoming on the vine, filling the air with a heady, musky scent. I watch in fascination as the petals spread enticingly, and the stamens begin to glisten with a gleaming milky-white substance. I reach out and dip my fingers into a flower, and my fingers come away dripping. I laugh in disbelief, and you open your eyes to see the cause for my mirth._

_“Oh nothing... the sex vines have lubricant blossoms...” I murmur and hold my glistening fingers up. “Getting tingly... I wonder how it will feel when I-“_

_I raise an eyebrow, and slide a finger inside you._

_“Mmm... warm, too...” I breathe, and dip my other fingers into a flower, then coat myself. By the time I’m three fingers deep into you and I’ve worked you in ever so deliciously, we’re both trembling and moaning._

_I withdraw my fingers, and position myself over you. My cock, hard and dripping, presses enticingly at your opening. And then I’m pushing in, and god, it’s just as I remember... only you’re mine, you’re mine *for good*, and nothing can take you away from me..._

_“Sebastian... Tiger... husband, Consort... my own...” I whisper, and I move inside you, already shivering with pleasure..._

Oh my. Bondage foliage. How incredibly convenient.

I wonder if previous Death had this, or if this is a recent invention...

Did previous Death have... partners in this realm? Did you?

Oh stop it Sebastian. Not relevant to the here and now. Which is - scrumptious... little thorns pinpricking my skin, vines immobilizing me, opening me up for you...

And then - oh -

Your fingers - your tongue –

\- oh fuck I never thought you would -

And then -

your _cock_ -

Taking me, here in this realm which is so alien yet feels so familiar, because it's _you_ , it feels - comfortable, like you're surrounding me everywhere...

Your own... yes...

"My Jim... my Thanatos... my Lord, my Husband..." I whisper.

Is that - alright? Can I call you - _mine?_

_I stare down at you as I rock rhythmically against you with my hips. My cock is pressing into you so enticingly - and how wonderful that you still have a sweet spot here in this realm. You moan loudly every time I nudge against it._

_Oh *god*... Sex is even more intensely intoxicating than it was in the mortal realm... I don’t know how either of us are going to get through this..._

_“Yesss, Tiger... *yours*,“ I breathe, then lean down to kiss you hungrily. As our lips devour each other, I dimly sense my cock has begun to move more quickly... insistently..._

_I break off the kiss and my head falls back as I fuck you... so deliciously hard and deep._

My body is awash with sensation, with _you_... you are in the vines that bind me, the thorns that pierce me, the breeze that plays over my skin, but most of all in your hands, your lips, your tongue, your voice - and your cock that's moving inside me so _exquisitely_...

My spirit/essence/whatever this is doesn't feel any different from the body I had before. Every nerve ending appears accounted for... and on fire with lust and ecstasy.

I am vaguely aware that I'm being fucked by _Death_ \- which is kind of poetic, since as a soldier you always know that you will get fucked by death in the end...

I just never imagined it would feel _so good_...

_I lean over you, pressing my hands down on your wrists - the thorns press in deeper still, the vines tighten, and you moan so beautifully._

_I feel Death rising in me, more potent with each thrust, until suddenly black mist pours out of me, and great wings burst forth from my shoulder blades._

_The drapery hanging from the canopy bed and the pergola flaps in the air._

_I feel the wings beat once, twice - and your eyes swing towards them before staring at me in shock._

_“Alright then...” I mutter, then yank the vines from your limbs. I pull you against me, and the vines wrap us together. I whisper “Say a prayer, Tiger...” before launching us into the air... flying haphazardly, but I can hardly be blamed... not only I’ve never fucking flown before, but I’m still *inside you*._

_I adjust my position, and you grip my shoulders and wrap your legs firmly around my thighs. “*Jim*... seriously?!” you say, laughing uproariously._

_I grin at you. “Probably a bad idea, but then... you only get one first fuck in the realm of Death.”_

_Determined, I let my wings beat harder and faster, then shoot up into the sky._

What the almighty _fuck!?_

You're growing - _wings??_ And then - _fly away with me?!_

What was in that shower gel???

You're swooping through the sky, holding on to me, somehow _still_ fucking me - and it's - absolutely crazy -

I hold on to you with arms and legs because _I_ haven't grown wings and I don't fancy testing if I can die over here. You're laughing, your black eyes gleaming as we climb higher and higher and you dive and do a loop and I am whooping with delight. Not the best conditions to fuck in, but it _is_ fucking spectacular.

_*Of course* you’re enjoying the hell out of this... my beautiful adrenaline junkie._

_We grin at each other madly, our laughter carrying on the wind. Then I take us into a slow spin. As our gazes soften, I take your face in my hands and kiss you deeply. We’re descending slowly, and I really should pay attention to where we’re going; I don’t want to dump us into the sea or against a sharp cliff. I open my eyes just to aim us in the right direction - and then we’re back to kissing, and moving against each other slowly._

_“Jim...” you murmur against my lips. “Do you know where we’re going?”_

_“Hush, Tiger...” I murmur back, and grasp your arse. “You’ll ruin the moment...”_

_You huff, I laugh and continue to descend. I glance down again and gently manoeuvre us to the top of the pergola which appears to be covered in lovely green moss. When we land with a soft thump, I wedge into you at the most delicious angle, making us both gasp with pleasure. We start moving against each other urgently again, and I don’t think I have the focus or patience to get us onto the bed -_

_We’re groaning and shuddering against each other..._

_“God... Sebastian...” I growl, and throw my head back as my wings beat the air rhythmically. “Come, Tiger - now-“_

I can't say I didn't enjoy the flight, but I am glad to be back on - well - a roof. I'm all for experimenting, but fucking in free flight is not something I've ever tried - idly I wonder what Stiles would have said had I suggested getting our rocks off in freefall - no. Don't think of others when the epitome of manhood is fucking you to within an inch of your life - if you still had one.

I'm moaning, grasping, clawing at the moss, when - an order -

_Come, Tiger - now -_

And I do, the feeling of your cock inside me so _acute_ , so good; our victory fuck, our _we fucking did it_ fuck, our second honeymoon fuck, _so much_ sweeter than the first one; and I come, I come so intensely, as I claw bits of moss off the roof and roar into the darkness - roar out all the fear, pain, confusion of the last day - it's almost as if I can see it take shape, like a cloud of toxic gas escaping from my throat, being dispersed in the sea breeze -

and I shudder and gasp as I look into your eyes, the endless black of your eyes...

_God, the animalistic side of your sexuality is something I could never tire of - bordering on violent, barely controlled, barely controllable... except by me. And I don’t even need restraints to do it, but my goodness, they look delectable on your body..._

_And when your sexual nature is unleashed, *oh*... it’s so beautiful, I can’t tear my eyes away. I let your gorgeous sounds wash over me as I come, shivering against you._

_It could have lasted a minute or an aeon, I have no idea... but we’re gazing at each other, our bodies trembling. I don’t know when I pulled out or when my wings enfolded us in a feathery, misty embrace._

_I rest my head against your shoulder. “Strange to think we had such a short time for our wedding night, Tiger. Now we could honeymoon for a century if we wanted...” I whisper._

Your eyes screw shut as you come inside me, and it's so good, so good to see your passion, your pleasure - so incredibly different from yesterday, that undeniably intense, but so despondent orgasm...

You hold me in your gaze, and I am suspended, caught between space and time, and your wings come out again, and enfold us in a soft black warm feathery cave of just us.

And you whisper to me, about our wedding night, and the contrast between that forlorn scantiness and the abundance that has greeted us here cuts me acutely –

\- and I burst into tears.

_My eyes are just starting to close drowsily, when I hear the unmistakable sound of weeping Tiger. My eyes fly open and I raise my head to look at you. You turn away and I take your chin in my hand to turn your tear-streaked face towards me._

_Seeing the haunted look in your eyes, my heart seizes._

_“Ohh... Sebastian, no...“ I murmur sorrowfully. “I’m so sorry, my darling. I shouldn’t have mentioned it...”_

_I stroke your face gently. “Or... do you want to talk about it? What we went through...” I shudder, and my eyes squeeze shut for a moment. “I guess we can’t expect to be over it just because... we’re safe now...”_

_I take a shaky breath. “It was... the best day of my life. And it was so *beyond* the worst, I don’t even have the words...”_

_Damn it_ , soldier.

You are a _soldier_. You don't _cry_.

I tell myself. And then start weeping inconsolably into your arms.

You hold me, stroke my hair, whisper soothing words as I surrender to the tears. Slowly I feel the tension in my shoulders lessen, and realize I've been incredibly on edge - no wonder. I found out the universe is ruled by a bunch of weirdos, got married and tortured, and then fucking _killed myself_ , all in the space of a few hours…

I mean, I've had an eventful career, but that's a bit much even for me.

But what's really setting me off is the thought of you, alone, weeping over my dead body... and I feel so _guilty_ , for leaving you like that... it seemed the better option, and not letting Destruction win - and I thought I could at least see you for a few minutes more, which is all I wanted - but I didn't think about how you would feel, how you wouldn't want to live any more... so much so that you even tried to escape Death's realm to enter Oblivion...

I keep seeing you running towards that cliff, and clasp you to me even tighter.

_*You need this*, I think as you shake in my arms - you need to face your pain, and slowly release it... fuck, I need it too, and I almost went there - but I was so swept up in our impassioned reunion, I pushed it aside._

_And now... I don’t want to be sucked into my own pain when you’ve been so shattered by yours. You need me. You need my solace._

_Because I know you must be feeling guilty, my Tiger..._

_I rest my head against yours as your sobs recede._

_“Sebastian,” I murmur, holding you close. “You’ve been through so much, my beautiful husband... I don’t know *much* about emotions and healing, but... I suspect it could take us a while to process all this... madness. This pain... it can’t be underestimated how much it affected us.” I wipe the tears from your eyes. “But... at least we have a safe place to rest, and the most important thing - to be together...” I say, my voice raw with emotion. “Because honestly, I don’t know how we managed to pull this off... I know I’m used to getting my way, and the world reconfiguring itself to my specifications, but... it was so close, Sebastian -“ I say, my voice cracking. “Oh god... so close...” I whimper, burying my face in your chest._

_My eyes squeeze shut and I feel tears spilling forth. Oh god, not me too..._

Oh -

my Jim -

And it _is_ my Jim - we are still in the soft black feathery cocoon of your wings, hiding from even your world, but the man I hold in my arms is not Death, nor even Moriarty - this scared, sad, lonely little boy who has never had someone to love and protect him couldn't be further from those imposing figures, but he _is_ them, he is the core that carries them; and it breaks my heart, to realize how lonely you must have been when Death took you, how lonely you were growing up, how lonely you still were even with Death in place... and the one thing that eased your loneliness was to be taken away from you immediately.

I pull you close, my own tears streaming still, but focussing on you; kissing you, stroking your hair. "You did it, Jim. You accomplished the impossible... and I will never leave you to be alone. I will always be here... for as long as you'll have me. I'll be your soldier, your Tiger... yours, Jim... for always..."

_I laugh as I cry. “*As long as I’ll have you?* You think I’d ever want to let you go, you foolish Tiger? It took me a *lifetime* to find you, and we didn’t make it out alive... now that we actually have eternity together, you think I’ll grow bored of my soulmate? I know, I *never* would have uttered the word when I was alive. (Strange thought, isn’t it, Sebbie? I *feel* alive... When I was *mortal*, then.) But I don’t think we would have *made it* otherwise. And I know I always make the impossible happen... but I don’t think I *could* have without having chosen *you*. You took the terrible step that made it work in the end...” I caress your face. “My Sebastian... it was so horrific, but everything fell into place - perfectly.”_

_You start to apologize brokenly, and I place a finger against your lips. “There’s nothing to forgive, my darling. Do you remember when I said I just wanted to curl up with you forever?”_

_You nod, tears streaming down your cheeks._

_“We got our Forever, Sebbie...” I say softly, gazing into your eyes. “My entire adult life... it’s the only thing I *ever* wanted...”_

"It's just - hard to believe..." I smile through my tears. "I keep thinking I'll wake up, or you'll disappear, or I will..."

"Never..." you whisper. "This is my realm. I say what happens here... no one else. Until the end of time... and at that point, I'll be the one who puts the chairs on the tables, switches off the lights, and locks the universe behind me.

But - spoiler alert?" you say with an impish grin. "It's going to be a _long_ time..."


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a journey I have made, what things I have seen.
> 
> Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, Chapter LIV. Translation Normandi Ellis.

They say there is a realm beyond the borders of time, that’s been there since the first ending, and will be the last thing to go after the universe dies.

They say it is infinitely large, and dark, and beautiful, with myriad colours under the moonlight, which isn’t real moonlight, because it’s not on earth or any planet with moons.

There are deserts of silver sand, where nothing lives but obsidian scorpions who only feed once every thousand years, when someone finds themselves lost among the dunes.

There are rivers which reflect the moonlight in all the colours of its spectrum, which is all the colours of the rainbow, and seven more.

They say there is a palace there, which is black and larger than a city, but only if it wants to be.

They say there are seas in which creatures live who are bigger than a continent, though they don’t say of which planet.

There are flowers who are so shy that they wither if beheld, and they can only be pollinated by blind insects.

There is a canyon that grows narrower as you walk it, until you come to a bit where you have to go sideways, and just as you think you can’t go further there is a small tunnel, through which you can go only with your arms stretched in front of you, moving forward by pushing your toes, and when you reach the end, there’s a round cave, in which you just fit, if you push your knees up to your chin and wrap your arms around them.

There is a forest which is so vast and so old that there are birds living in the canopy who have lived and died for countless generations without being aware that the ground exists.

The trunks of some of the trees take a day to circumambulate, if you are not a giant.

On the forest floor grow plants who have never seen the light of sun or moon, and no one knows the beauty of the fifteenth colour of their flowers.

On this world, in this forest, runs a tiger. He is majestic, his muscles moving and working under his fur as he emerges from under the trees and lopes across the grass plains.

On his heels, just behind him, is a black panther, slightly smaller, just as fast, with teeth glistening and onyx pelt shining.

The panther leaps, and the tiger rolls over, the panther between his paws as they careen through the grass, claws and fangs gleaming but not piercing, not yet; but then they come to a stop and the panther’s teeth sink into the tiger’s neck and the tiger roars –

\- and their forms shift, and they are two men, naked in the grass at the edge of time, engaging in the ritual that most affirms life –

And they say that these men are Death and His consort, who once lived on Earth, before it was destroyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist:  
> Black Celebration - Depeche Mode  
> Black Hole Sun (Acoustic version) - Sofia Karlberg  
> Fly on the Windscreen - Depeche Mode  
> Enjoy Yourself (It's Later Than You Think) - The Specials  
> I'm Your Boogieman - White Zombie  
> Framed in Blood - The 69 Eyes  
> More Human Than Human - White Zombie  
> Dig Up Her Bones - Misfits  
> Hollow Hills - Bauhaus  
> Beat the Devil's Tattoo - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club  
> (Don't Fear) The Reaper - Blue Öyster Cult  
> Killer - Boys Noize  
> Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival  
> The Wild Boys - Duran Duran  
> Happy When It Rains - The Jesus and Mary Chain  
> I Put a Spell on You - Marilyn Manson  
> Red Right Hand - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds  
> Last - Nine Inch Nails  
> Who Wants to Live Forever - Queen  
> A Warm Place - Nine Inch Nails  
> Another One Bites the Dust - Queen  
> Killing in the Name - Rage Against the Machine  
> Paint It Black - The Rolling Stones  
> Face to Face - Siouxsie and the Banshees  
> This is the Day - The The  
> This Town Ain't Big Enough for Both of Us - Siouxsie and the Banshees  
> Zero - The Smashing Pumpkins  
> Body Crumbles - Dry Cell  
> I Am Stretched on Your Grave - Craic in the Stone  
> Out of This World - Bush  
> Unusual You - Britney Spears  
> How Death Comes - Mediaeval Babes  
> Dream On - Aerosmith  
> Niemand Sterft - Acda en De Munnik  
> Slave Only Dreams to Be King - Marilyn Manson  
> Meaning of Life - Disturbed  
> Blood - Tindersticks  
> Birds of Hell Awaiting - Marilyn Manson  
> Hatchet - Archive  
> Now That We're Dead - Metallica  
> Waiting for the Moon - Tindersticks  
> Today - The Smashing Pumpkins  
> Bloody Kisses - Type O Negative  
> Corrupt - Depeche Mode  
> It's No Good - Depeche Mode  
> Stripped - Depeche Mode  
> The Cardinal Sin - Dead Can Dance  
> Follow Me - Muse  
> The Spectator - The Bravery  
> The Killing Moon - Echo and the Bunnymen  
> Who Killed Mr Moonlight - Bauhaus  
> Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division  
> Somebody's Watching Me - Rockwell  
> Talking In Your Sleep - The Romantics  
> Mad World - Tears for Fears  
> Rain, In Your Black Eyes - Ezio Bosso  
> Dance With Me - IAMX  
> She's Kerosene - The Interrupters  
> Can't Hold Back - You Me at Six  
> I Think I'm Paranoid - Garbage  
> Anaesthetize - Porcupine Tree  
> Die Easy - Rag 'n' Bone Man  
> Sleep - My Chemical Romance  
> Explorers - Muse  
> Lamentation for a Lost Life - Max Richter  
> Cat People (Putting out Fire) - David Bowie  
> Sleepwalking - Bring Me the Horizon  
> Suicide - Kosheen  
> I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie  
> Heartattack in a Layby - Porcupine Tree  
> Prince Charming - Metallica  
> Coming Down - Halsey  
> I Miss You - blink-182  
> Miss Murder - AFI  
> My Boy Builds Coffins - Florence and the Machine  
> M - The Cure  
> The Light - Disturbed  
> These Days - Joy Division  
> Aftermath - Muse  
> Soul 4 Sale - Simon Curtis  
> At Night - The Cure  
> Gravity Eyelids - Porcupine Tree  
> Chance - Savatage  
> Before I'm Dead - Kidneythieves  
> Commanded by Voices - IAMX  
> The Line - Public Memory  
> Diablo - Simon Curtis  
> Brainwash - Simon Curtis  
> Cry Little Sister - Marilyn Manson  
> God's Gonna Cut You Down - Marilyn Manson  
> Clouds, the Mind on the (Re)Wind - Ezio Bosso  
> When Will You Come Home - M83  
> Black Sea - Natasha Blume  
> Perfect Day - Lou Reed  
> Underground - David Bowie  
> Bury My Heart - Spinnerette  
> Patience - Guns N’ Roses  
> Ashes to Ashes - David Bowie  
> Distorting a Code - Spinnerette  
> Étienne de Silhouette - Black Feather  
> Leaving on a Jet Plane - John Denver  
> The Story of My Life - Neil Diamond  
> Morning Has Broken - Cat Stevens  
> O Death - Ralph Stanley  
> I Want to Break Free - Queen  
> Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day  
> Paint It Black - Hidden Citizens  
> Please Stay - Duffy  
> Don't Leave Me This Way - Thelma Houston  
> Wrecking Ball (Piano Version) - Michael Forster  
> Feral Love - Chelsea Wolfe  
> Feel It - Jakalope  
> Magnolia - Jakalope  
> The Great Gig in the Sky - Pink Floyd  
> Teo Torriatte (Let Us Cling Together) - Queen  
> Cemetery Drive - My Chemical Romance  
> Wasteland, Baby! - Hozier  
> Time for a New Start - Steven Wilson  
> Dopes to Infinity - Monster Magnet  
> W.T.Y.D - Annihilator  
> Heaven Upside Down - Marilyn Manson  
> Tief in dir - OOMPH!  
> Damage - Archive  
> Eraser - Nine Inch Nails  
> The Globalist - Muse  
> The Morning After - Faith No More  
> Broken Fingers - Melanie Garside  
> Your Time Has Come - Audioslave  
> Sexual Hallucination - In This Moment  
> It's Alright - Mother Mother  
> Never Too Late - Three Days Grace

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Throw Open the Door of Heaven (Moriamur - Deleted Scene)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26652799) by [Conduitstreetcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conduitstreetcat/pseuds/Conduitstreetcat), [TheGreenFaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenFaerie/pseuds/TheGreenFaerie)




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